let's get these hearts beating faster, faster
by bleuboxes
Summary: She tried to scream, but she was so terrified that no sound came out; her legs refused to move. (a weird as hell au.)
1. Chapter 1

_"The pain was a river I rode; I could not plant my feet in it or it would knock me down."_

_-Frances Greenslade_

* * *

It was a normal day for her, as far as normal days go. She went to work, went home, got some Chinese takeout, graded some papers, watched a movie, and got ready for bed. While she was brushing her teeth, her doorbell rang. She hurried down the stairs, with her toothbrush still in her mouth; the foam of the tooth paste was around the outside of her lips, causing the little indentations of where she bit them while she was watching the movie to sting. She figured whoever was at the door was most likely her father, who had a history of just randomly showing up at her flat at whatever hour he deemed acceptable.

She was surprised to see a young man and a woman when she opened the door. The woman, with carrot red hair, and the man, who looked seemingly normal except for his extraordinarily large nose, each held something. The woman had a syringe and the man had a bag. It was in that moment that she realized that something was not perfectly okay and that she should at least try to run and get away from these two people, of whom she was sure, had an intention of hurting her.

"Clara Oswald," said the woman to the man, "Age twenty-four, healthy, school teacher. She should be good. Help me hold her down; she looks like she's going to give a fight." They looked at each other and shared a nod, and started moving towards her.

She tried to scream, but she was so terrified that no sound came out; her legs refused to move, she was scared stiff. The man laughed, and the woman put the syringe against her neck; she felt the needle pierce her skin, and the woman injected the anesthetic into her. Almost instantly she felt the effects and her eyelids began to feel heavy, she felt herself crash to the ground. "G'night Clara." The woman said maniacally before she passed out completely.

* * *

She woke up and didn't know where she was. It was a dark room; there were no windows, but there was a small lamp and a cot. She ran over to the door and started to pound on it, knowing that it was locked and that nobody was going to come for her. Then, the reality of her predicament sunk in - she was trapped in a building that was full of people who might have an intention of killing her. She was terrified and angry. In fact, she was infuriated. These people (If they even deserved to be called people) had taken her from her home in the middle of the night- a Tuesday night, she had work the next day, if it was the next day, for all she knew she could have been out for days. She started to cry, actually, it was more like violently sobbing. Her body was curled in a fetal possession on the cold, concrete ground and she was shaking from head to toe while she cried.

She was sure there was a camera watching her- from all the movies she had seen with rooms like this there always was one. She was also quite certain that the people watching the footage from her containment room were probably watching her and laughing, because that's what people who kidnap innocent women right out of their homes do- they act like sick animals. She cried herself to sleep and woke up less than two hours later because of a nightmare, and she didn't really want to sleep anymore. When she did get tired, she pinched herself to stay awake.

After what felt like three hours later, the man and the woman came into her room and escorted her out, after they put her in a blindfold that was the same color as their souls, black. They sat her down in a chair, strapped her wrists to its arms and her ankles to its legs. They proceeded to remove the blindfold from her face.

"The Doctor will be here shortly." Said the man, then he and the woman left.

She spent the time waiting imagining what he would look like- she thought the Doctor would be an old man with murderous eyes and scarred face. She thought he might have a monocle and a limp. So, when he came in with a surprisingly young face that held sad eyes and a tweed jacket and a bow tie, she was a bit surprised. On the table, there was a folder, which said _Subject 11_: _C. Oswald. _

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?" he asked.

"Why me?" she cried, "_Why, WHY?"_ she thrashed around in the chair, trying to wiggle out of the restraints so she could wring his neck. Sadly, the woman and man knew how to restrain people to chairs. He rolled his eyes.

"There's no use trying to escape." He said, "The Professor needs human test subjects for her new clinical trial. If you cooperate, there is a chance you can go home and be famous. If not, she may kill you, and let's face it, Clara, no one wants to die."

"Don't. Call. Me. Clara." She spat; she hated him. Over her dead body would she cooperate with him, or any of this 'Professor's' little cronies.

"Okay then_, Ms. Oswald_, Today, I'm going to take tissue samples and blood tests, which shouldn't be too bad, as long as you stay still and calm."

"I hate you." she blurted out.

"That was sudden, and to answer your question before, the 'why' question that was followed but you thrashing around like a dead fish, was because you are, and I quote, a strong, independent woman who is persistent and tolerant and exceptionally clever."

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked. He smiled at her, a friendly smile with murderous content.

"What's the fun in telling you that?"

She put up a fight on her way over to the table. She managed to give him a black eye before he was forced strap her down and sedate her. Her arm was sore and she was tired, but she decided if she couldn't escape, she would try, with every fabric in her being, to make his life as much as a living hell as possible. She didn't sleep that night either- she was scared of the monsters of her dreams.

* * *

The man and woman came in the next morning, blindfolded her and strapping her to the chair. The man left first, leaving the woman.

"I'm sorry." She whispered in her ear. "I'm Amy. And I'll try to get you out before the Professor does anything too drastic. I promise, okay."

She nodded her head slightly to signify that she understood. Amy turned and left the room without saying a word. She imagined again- what a wonderful gift, imagination. She pictured what the Doctor would look like today, perhaps his black eye would make his chin look less prominent, or his eyes a little less hurt and a little angrier. Maybe he wouldn't have his floppy bow tie on today, maybe he would look a little angrier and a little less sympathetic - she wanted him to be angry.

"Good morning, Ms. Oswald." He said.

"I would say the same, but I'm greeted with your lovely face, so that would be a completely rubbish statement."

"Lovely face, eh?" he said with a sly grin littered on his face.

"If it makes you sleep at night." She responded and decided to just be quiet.

"So today," he said, while opening her folder, we're going to take an x-ray of your chest cavity, then your free to go."

She snorted; she was anything but free in this place. He looked at her as if to say _what's so funny_, apparently he didn't get the memo that she was a captive- she was a test subject, taken and held against her will. Her stomach rumbled, and she was shocked when he reached inside his tweed jacket and pulled out an apple and offered it to her.

"Apple's are rubbish," he looked at it once more before putting it in her mouth, because her hands were strapped to the chair. She took a bite, and he turned her so she could keep eating, "I don't know why I took it this morning. Maybe it was the universe telling me to; I'm not sure." She finished the apple and smiled for the first time since she was taken.

"Thank you." she said in all honesty.

"Yeah, well," he said, "it was only because apples were rubbish. Besides, you can't be taking medical tests on an empty stomach." He said, but he wasn't looking at her. She seemed to think that he looked embarrassed or ashamed of his actions. But, this small act of 'unintentional' kindness wasn't enough to change her mind. She still hated him; there was nothing anyone could do about it.

She made it difficult for him to take her to the x-ray machine, but, she wasn't as rebellious with her actions against him today, partially because she was exhausted from not getting any sleep and partly because she just didn't want to move her arm, because it hurt so bad. He tried to make conversation again, but he soon got the message that she just wasn't interested.

She finished, and Amy and the man came to collect her. They put her in her room, and locked the door. She was alone, and alone was good. She could formulate a plan for escape, something that would hurt them; it would have to be something big- like a rebellion, something that started from within and worked its way out. It would have to be a plan that was bigger on the inside- something that seemed so undoubtedly simple, but was really complicated- something like her.

She didn't sleep that night either. Amy came during the morning and brought her some oatmeal and water. It wasn't much, but she was starving and dehydrated, so it was like a feast. Amy didn't say anything to her and took away the tray when she was finished. The man came in after she left and announced that the Doctor was going to see her in her room today, and that she should be prepared for him to come, and he left the room as quietly as a mouse.

"Hello, Ms. Oswald." He greeted. She wasn't nearly as enthusiastic.

"Go away." She said gruffly. He ignored her.

"You're getting a new room today." He said. "There's an actual bed in it, and clothes and a shower."

To say she was exited would be an understatement.

"Then tomorrow, since their examining the blood and tissue samples and x-ray today were going to take measurements."

She didn't want to know what the measurements were for, but she did want to know why he didn't seem so cheery about her getting these measurements. Was it that he learned to care for her within three days or so that she had been here? Even if he did, the fact was that every passing day she hated him more and more.

He tied a blindfold around her head and led her out the door. He grabbed her shoulders and guided her to where she was to go, and he let go of her for a brief moment to open something, most likely a door, and then returned to her and guided her in.

It was warm in this room, and there was carpet. She removed the blind fold herself, reluctant to let him help her with anything else because of what tomorrow had in store. It was a tiny room, she observed, it had a little door way in the corner, without a door, where she guessed the bathroom was, and a bed in the opposite corner. In contrast with the other room, this one was a crisp white, and had one window. There was a dresser by the door.

She was too busy looking through the things to notice him go, but she didn't care. She grabbed clothes and headed to the shower, where she scrubbed herself and put on the clean clothes. She collapsed on her bed and cried. She missed her dad- she was wondering if he was okay. She drifted off to sleep, which she was granted.

She had no nightmares, just dreams of what she should have been doing instead of being here, in this hell hole. She dreamt of teaching her English class and seeing her dad. These thoughts distracted her and were so much better than the thoughts of tomorrow and the reality of the nightmare she was living out.

* * *

**Hello! sorry your not getting a new installment of Knowledge this week- i really haven't had any ideas on what to do with it at this point- if you do have any suggestions regarding that story leave a review or PM. i feel really bad about not updating that. **

**But anyway, this was an idea that i came up with during lab the other day- no, i wasn't torturing people or anything, i don't know, it was like a little plot bunny came hopping along my path and just wanted me to pick it up. **

**So, i hope you enjoy this and stuff, its RATED T FOR A REASON- THERE WILL MOST LIKELY BE GORY SCENES AND INTENSE ACTION SEQUENCES AND EXPLICIT LANGUAGE- so please, if you are not comfortable with that stuff, this story is not for you. **

**alright****, that should be all... **

**oh yeah, and for all you whoufflepuffs out there, this is a whouffle story because its like my favorite OTP right now...**

**XOXO,**

**bleuboxes (formerly disenchanted fangirl)**

**AN 2: okay I'm proofreading this because it needs t be done, I will ventually get to all of my stories, ut seeing as this one is by far my most popular one, I'm going to start with it. **


	2. Chapter 2

Tomorrow came in the blink of an eye. She was angry and scared; she didn't know anything about what they were going to do to her. She liked to understand the situation completely before doing anything, and now she was diving head first into uncharted waters.

Amy came in and delivered her breakfast that morning. She had left a note written with messy handwriting buried in her oatmeal that read '_Don't trust the man, Rory, that walks with me to collect you.'_

So there was a constant in her plan of escape. She couldn't trust the man, Rory. The first boy she fancied was called Rory; he was the last one too. (and that thought was completely irrelevant) Amy took her tray when she was done eating. (She ate the note. The paper tasted gross, but they couldn't get any evidence if it was decomposing in her stomach.)

They blindfolded her, and this time, when they reached their destination, instead of strapping her to a chair, they strapped her directly to the table. She could only hope they weren't going to kill her on an operating table that day. She really was not in the mood to die. And besides, if they were going to kill her, Amy would have formulated a plan to get her out of this place a day ago.

She waited for about half an hour before the Doctor came in. This time he was with someone. It was a woman; she had tan skin and very poofy carmel curls that cascaded from her pony tail to her back. Her eyes were green, but not the magical fairy princess green, the fierce greenish yellow green of feral cats. They were cunning and malicious. She tried to turn her head to get a better look at her, but instead saw the Doctor; he was looking at her, she couldn't tell his emotion, though. It looked something between adoration and longing.

_Oh, how funny,_ she thought. _The Doctor fancies the psychopath. How adorable. Maybe they'll kill me for their first date. Lovely…_ She was able to get another look at the woman, and noticed that she didn't look at the Doctor the same way he looked at her, and for some odd reason, that gave her the satisfaction of knowing that he was suffering, and from her own personal experiences, she knew that emotional pain had a strict tendency to hurt much more than physical pain. She tried to listen to them whispering. She knew from their hushed tones that they were talking about her, but about what was what she was curious to know. She must have been special, she figured, for them to have kidnapped her from her own home just to do blood and tissue samples and these measurements, whatever the hell they were.

"Clara Oswald," Said the woman, "Pleasure to meet you. Professor Song." She stuck out her had for Clara to shake it; just some big nasty joke, and Professor Song laughed. "Sorry, forgot you were strapped in there, sweetie."

"Fuck you." she said.

"Oh, feisty. They're always more fun." Said the Professor with a malicious grin. She walked back over to the Doctor, who was writing stuff down in her file, and Professor Song whispered something in his ear, which caused him to turn ruby red and then, she walked out of the room and slammed the door.

The Doctor finished writing whatever he was writing down about her and walked over to the table.

"Hello, Ms. Oswald." He said.

"Who's the lady friend of yours?" she gritted out. The way he looked at her told her that it was an uncomfortable topic for him which made her push the subject more when he refused to respond.

"You're in love with her and she couldn't give less of a shit about you, poor little Doctor." She said. He turned around and mumbled something.

"What's that, Doc? Couldn't hear you over all that unrequited love."

"SHUT UP!" he yelled which caused her to flinch; she hadn't expected that. This was good, she knew what got the Doctor angry- she could use that against him. He checked the file once more and walked back over to the table.

"Today, I'm going to take measurements of your chest." He said looking quite embarrassed.

"Yeah, so?" she questioned sounding much less scared than she actually was.

"I'm going to have to remove your shirt and your bra." He said while turning red.

"Isn't that molestation if I don't give you permission?" she said with a twinge of fear in her voice.

He didn't answer. He stood over her with an exceptionally sorry expression upon his face and started to unbutton her shirt. She started trying to break out of the clasps that held her hands and feet to the table. She started to yell, even though no one could hear her. And, when that didn't work she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see what he was going to do to her. Somehow he managed to remover bother her shirt and bra without damaging them or un-doing her hand clasps.

He kept muttering to himself something that she couldn't comprehend, and she felt a ruler slide across her chest and she started to cry; it's not like he was raping her, but she just felt violated. She was embarrassed or something- she honestly didn't know. But they weren't just tears of embarrassment; they were also tears of anger and hatred. She hated him, and her, that god damned 'Professor'. She would kill her and she didn't care. But she would make it a painful experience, maybe strap her down to the table and carve little slices in her skin until she begged for mercy. The thought sickened her. _No,_ she thought to herself, _I'm a better person than she will ever be. And I'll prove it to her when the time comes. _

The Doctor completed the measurements a short time later, and kept telling her that he was sorry, but she didn't believe a word.

"Okay, Doc." She kept telling him.

She struggled to get her top back on when he left the room. She was tired and disorientated from all her hate fire and tears and her struggles against the hand clasps that absolutely refused to let her go. Amy and Rory came to gather her and brought her back to her room. Once Amy left, Rory told her that she wouldn't be having another appointment (if she could even call them that) for another week.

* * *

She spent the first day crying. She missed her old life, she missed the children. She missed the other teachers that she was friends with at Coal Hill School. She missed her dad. She missed her flat and her bed and her blankets and her television programs. She missed her friends, even though she had the feeling that they secretly really didn't like her. She cried herself to sleep, only to be awoken a countless number of times before the monsters that plagued her dreams came back to haunt her again.

She spent the next two days in her bed, contemplating the meaning of life. She didn't understand why the innocent people were to suffer while the evil and malicious triumph. She thought of it as rather unfair and unnerving, and she tried, she honestly tried not to think about it but her brain just wouldn't let it go. And those nights were filled with her silence as she refused to have the monsters come and terrify her in her sleep.

She was very tired on the fourth day of waiting. She fell asleep against her better judgment and was greeted by something much worse than nightmares- her imagination. She dreamed that night. About a time traveler that was over one thousand years old. He traveled around the universe in a little blue box that was bigger on the inside. He was funny, and childish and very strange. She was his traveling companion. They went everywhere and anywhere and anytime together. And although she never saw his face in the dream, she could tell that she was slowly falling in love with him. She didn't understand why, and maybe she never would because as soon as she was going to tell him, she woke up.

On day five, she was starving. Amy came in to deliver her breakfast, which was much larger than it ever had been. It consisted of a banana, oatmeal, a bottle of water and a protein bar. She ate the oatmeal, drank half the water and saved the banana and protein bar for a later day, because she was almost positive that she wasn't going to be given any food for at least another three days. She took a shower and brushed her hair. She looked in the mirror and looked at how sickly she was. She was so skinny and pale and fickle; she looked like a dying woman. She went to bed soon after and once again dreamed of the time traveler.

During the sixth and seventh day, she thought about the Doctor. More specifically, why she hated him. The only legitimate reason she actually had was because of what the Professor forced him to do, and even then, it wasn't even technically his fault. It was hers, but she never saw her, just that one time, so she irrationally dumped all her anger with her on him. And the worst part is that she didn't even feel bad about it. Both of those nights she looked forwards to sleep, because she would be greeted by the time traveling man who, with every passing dream, made her fall more in love with him.

* * *

She woke up the next morning with a growling stomach. She looked to the banana and protein bar on the floor and decided to eat the banana because that would probably be over ripened soon. She didn't even like bananas.

She finished eating when Amy and Rory came to get her. She complied with them. She let them blindfold her and lead her to the room where she was strapped to the chair and sat waiting for the Doctor. She felt bad about all her hatred on him and not Professor Song. He should only be getting half of it. The Professor should be receiving the other half of her hate fire, but she wasn't there to burn, so the Doctor would just have to do for now.

"Miss Oswald." He greeted without looking at her.

"You have Professor Song's lipstick all over your face. Is that it? Is that why you won't look at me?"

"Shut up- No we don't." he looked appalled as he turned around. "Miss Oswald, you-"

"Don't even bother. Can't be a worse insult than what you people are."

"Look, I said I was sorry. I only did it because she threatened to kill me."

"Even after she threatened to end you, you still go back on her word like a lovesick puppy." She said jeeringly. "Putting her before my human rights. I feel so appreciated right now."

If looks could kill, his would have. He sighed and turned around. By the looks of it, he straightened his bow tie then turned back around to face her.

"Look, you're going to get operated on in 14 days. There's a fifty-fifty chance that you won't come out of it alive and I feel awful. I just wanted to talk, you know, about mundane things."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. This man must have been bipolar; he went from a homicidal maniac to having a very large heart. It was confusing and somewhat familiar.

"Look," he continued, "I know you have no reason to want to talk, and I understand."

"No," she said cutting him off mid sentence, "You don't." He mumbled something after she finished that she couldn't quite hear.

"Miss Oswald," he said firmly, "You have a fifty percent chance of death in just fourteen short days. I don't want you to die alone. Please- I don't care if you mock me or hate me, just talk. _Please_." He looked at her with pleading eyes that she took advantage of. He said she didn't care what she said as long as she talked. She was all for it.

"Alright, lover boy, spill. What are they going to do to me?"

* * *

To say she was horrified was an understatement. They were going to cut open her chest, move everything around and add a tube for another heart. So, when one heart stopped beating, according to the Professor's 'research', the other would keep beating, which would add fifty years on her life. Before they finished the procedure, they were going to inject her with some sort of serum that would re write her DNA so she would be able to create a new species of humans with someone else who was compatible.

She felt sick. She was a literal lab rat. He also mentioned that there had been another before her that had survived the procedure. That said person had her exact blood type and he told her that he figured that because of this she had a better chance of survival. She found this neither comforting nor helpful. He looked at her with sad eyes, but beneath that sadness she found hidden joy; once again his hidden psycho maniac shone through.

"Well, all I have to say to that is_ I'm so screwed_." She said. This meant that Amy was going to have to come up with a plan to get her out of here before her experimental surgery.

The Doctor laughed. "Let's talk about something a little less science-y."

"Like your unrequited love for Professor Song?" She questioned. She was angry and scared (mostly scared) and all her resentment for being taken to be some sort of guinea pig was truly starting to get on her nerves.

"I'm not- She's not-"

"Oh, I see. You're fuck buddies, then." She said with a sly grin on her face. Oh, how she enjoyed making him nervous. He sighed.

"Yes, well, sort of… it's complicated." He replied glowing a shade of red. She found it rather cute how easily he got embarrassed- _What! No-_ she thought; she couldn't think that- she wasn't supposed to think that, in fact she hadn't thought of anyone that way since Rory. (Well she continued to think of two thousand and five's Pete Wentz that way, but that was a silly celebrity crush; it was socially and morally acceptable.)

He was a psychopath, and she refused to acknowledge that he was cute when he was embarrassed and instead, she converted that feeling into raw hatred and naked rage.

"How cute." She said. "You have feelings for an emotionless brick wall."

"She's not emotionless." He stated.

"Oh, how could I forget? She's not a sociopath, because doing this, what she's doing to me, to a human being requires emotions. My mistake." She said with venom laced in her words.

"If anyone's a sociopath," he said to her, "it's you. Listen, I'm just trying to help you not be lonely before you're surgery."

She wanted to scream that she wasn't alone and that she wasn't a sociopath; she had _her_ Time Traveler; she had her sentiment. She had her emotions – she understood them. But, she could not tell him; he would only scorn her irrational dreams and love of the imaginary man with the extravagant blue box whom she had fallen head-over-teacups for. That man fought monsters; this man, the Doctor, was one.

"I guess you're right. No soul here." She said. She wanted to cry, but this was a game and she would come out victorious; she had to be.

"Why do you call yourself the Doctor? Not Doctor whoever, just the Doctor?" she questioned.

"What's in a name." he responded.

"You can tell a lot about a person by their name." she said without a hint of feeling. She was pissed off at him answering her with a philosophical question.

"It's John Smith; Doctor John Smith." He said. "Rather a plain name, it doesn't really suit me. So everyone just really calls me the Doctor; it's a bit more extravagant."

"Even Professor Song?" she asked smugly.

"Oi, you, shut it." he said with a pout.

"Over my dead body." She said. He turned ghostly pale and she laughed.

"You know, Doctor, I can't figure you out. You go from an insane scientist to someone who genuinly cares. If I didn't know any better, I would say that your trying to be my friend, but that won't happen. I hate you. I hate your 'job'. I hate your boss. I hate this place, and your part of this hell. I appreciate it, really, I do, but you don't understand a god damned thing." He stayed silent; his silence was egging her on to continue.

"I'm getting a completely different genetic make-up- that's pretty much taking away my humanity- I'll be some sort of hybrid. _How is this making things better_?"

She wanted to cry and she wanted him to laugh at her, but he didn't; he did the exact opposite, in fact. He walked up to her and unstrapped her wrist and ankles from the chair and gave her a hug.

"Hey, it's okay." He rubbed her back; she knew he was lying. But it was a comforting lie. Doctors were rather good at telling those; They were always sweetening up the worst possible situations. Despite her best efforts, she cried into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

"I just want to go home." She cried, "Take me back; take me back to my room. Just, please, please- I want to be alone. Just take me back, _please_." She choked out.

"Hey," he said and let go of her to let her stand up. He grabbed her hand again. "C'mon, let's go."

He pulled her hand and she felt her cheeks light up like Rudolph's nose on Christmas Eve. She hoped he would think it was from the crying, not from their touching hands. He helped her navigate through the hallways, which she was seeing for the first time, because he didn't put the blindfold on her. the corridors were a dull grey color with hardwood flooring and harsh lighting.

He unlocked her door and helped her into her bed. She curled up underneath the blankets, reluctant to open her eyes. She was greeted by her time-traveling dream man, who told her to listen, and she did because although he wasn't real, she was completely and utterly in love with him. She could have sworn she felt the Doctor kiss her forehead and heard the Doctor bid her goodnight.

* * *

"Let's go on an adventure." Said her Time Traveler.

"Let's go somewhere awesome." She said with a goofy grin on her face, and she swore that she felt that he had one on his face too. She never saw his face, but he was familiar like an old friend.

* * *

**Three cheers to this really fast update! you all have yourselves to thank because of all the feed back I have received through follows. (although I'm kind of disappointed there have been no reviews. hint hint)**

**well here you go. three thousand and some words that i wrote down today. it was a lot of work but I'm proud of it.**

**I hope you like it and please, make my day and review, or follow, or favorite me or this story because i have proof that it makes me write faster.**

**xoxo**

**bleuboxes **

**AN 2: okay, wow. if I have missed any errors please kindly let me know and I will fix it asap.**


	3. Chapter 3

She was excited for this dream; her Time Traveler was taking her somewhere new and exotic.

"Where are we going?" she asked the dream man.

"Somewhere awesome." He said. "Remember, I just told you."

"Just as long as I don't have to leave. I don't ever want to go back. Don't make me leave."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, "All your things are on the TARDIS."

"What do _you_ mean?" she asked right back, "This is a dream; it is- I swear. You're my Time Traveler; you save me from the Monsters. You can't be real, because I'm in love with my dreams!" she screamed.

He grabbed his Sonic Screwdriver and scanned her. He gave it a flick and smashed it against has hand. He then proceeded to look at the results. She continued to cry. She cried because this couldn't be real, even though she wished this was her reality and she cried because she could never see his face, and that was rather frustrating.

"Clara," he said to her gently, "listen, you're from a different universe, a parallel universe from mine. You're the alternate version of the Clara from this reality. Your subconscious is somehow bleeding through to her body."

"Why is this happening to me?" she asked.

"I don't know, Clara, but I'll figure it out just… just be quiet for a moment or two."

She didn't mean to say what she did next. It was just a thought that decided it didn't want to be alive in just her thoughts but her words too; it just flew out of her mouth before she even realized she was saying it.

"Why can't I ever see your face? It's always there but it isn't at the same time. And why don't you have a name? Names are important when you travel and do all the things you do."

"Oh dear," he said, turning to face her, "Well, Hello, Clara. My name is The Doctor. I didn't realize that I forgot to introduce myself." His face- her Time Traveler's face- became clear as crystals and she screamed.

* * *

She woke up crying. Why was he there, The Doctor; he was her nightmare and her Time Traveler was her dream. She was in love with the Time Traveler, and the Doctor, the nasty evil pig-like Doctor, had to look exactly like him.

She threw up. She was so sick of all the shit that was happening to her. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to go to a time before the Doctor and her Time Traveler, who were the problems of her mental and physical anguish. She went to take a shower and had the water running while she sat down in the corner, hugged her knees and cried as the hot water hit her back.

She sat like that for at least fifteen minutes before she stood up and gained control of herself. She washed the vomit out of her hair and shut off the water. She walked out and dried herself off, and then got dressed in the very uniform white pants and blouse they provided for her. She sat down once again, but this time, she sat on the floor. She needed exercise. She was a sickly pale and disgustingly skinny. She attempted to do five sit ups, which usually were very easy for her, but she was only able to do three.

She was starving. She bit off a small piece of the protein bar and sat yet again on her fluffy white carpet. She needed to think of a plan of escape. This place was messing with her thoughts and her feelings. She would have to get out of this place before her surgery to maintain any hopes of keeping her normal life. She could use the Doctor; she could get him to trust her, and that would mean telling him personal things that she might not want to share. She had thirteen days, just thirteen short days, to come up with a plan to get herself out of this hell.

It was weird that as soon as she stopped thinking about him, he came in to give her a little visit.

"Hello, Miss Oswald!" He greeted. She smiled, not because she was pleased to see him, but because she was going to try to gain his complete trust.

"Sorry about last night," she said, "I just really want to go home."

He looked at his hands, then back up to meet her eyes. She was still sitting on the ground so his head didn't move, only his eyes.

"I understand- oh, sorry." He said because he remembered from his past visit that she screamed at him for saying so.

"Let me get up." She said. She pushed herself to get up and started walking to her bed, and she remembered that there was vomit all over the bed sheets and tried to cover it up, but she failed miserably. He walked over to where she was to see what she was doing and noticed the white sheets were not so white in some places.

"Miss Oswald, what happened? Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm fine, honestly. It was just a bad dream." She said looking embarrassed. Nightmares were for children; she was twenty-four years old. "Look, it was nothing. I'll clean it up later."

"Don't be silly!" he shouted, "I'll help you clean it up. I think there's a spare set of sheets in the dresser."

He took off all the vomit encrusted sheets and carried them outside the door. She walked over to the bed with the new and clean bed sheets and she let him help her put them on, despite her telling herself that she wouldn't let him help her. She told herself that she wouldn't enjoy his company, but she knew she was lying, because she already did as soon as he walked towards the door after they had finished making the bad.

"Wait, Doctor." She had called. He stopped and turned around to face her.

"Yes, Miss Oswald?"

"Will you come again tomorrow?" she asked.

His smile lit up the whole room, which caused her cheeks to turn a vibrant shade of red. He laughed at her reaction.

"If you would like me too." He responded and turned to go out the door. She heard the door close and her stomach grumbled. She bit off a piece of the protein bar and took a sip of water. She remembered seeing a book in her dresser when she was digging through it to find the white bed sheets earlier that day. She decided to go and get it. It was a book of poetry, and even though she didn't really like poetry too much, she decided to read it because she was so unbelievably bored.

She fell asleep like any normal bookworm- with her head drooped over in the book- and was greeted by her Time Traveler.

* * *

"Ah, hello Clara!" he greeted her. "You passed out before, so I did some research, and according to the TARDIS's data banks, an emotion is attaching you involuntarily to this 'dream reality' that contains me."

"Shit." She blurted out without a thought.

"Clara! That's a rude word!" He said in a state of shock. _What a child, _she thought.

"And I'm a rude person, so it's acceptable." She said and he rolled his eyes. He let out a sigh and gave her a hug.

"Clara, you can tell me anything; you know that, right?"

"I know, my Time Traveler." She replied. He smiled at her and she blushed. She had just told him a lie. She knew it would hurt him, she knew, if she did ever tell him that the Doctor in her world was the polar opposite of the type of man he was.

"You're an awful liar." He said. She laughed as if this news was known as a fact to her. He didn't bother to push the subject any further.

"How do I get these dreams to end? How do I get my brain to be at peace?" She asked. He scanned her with the Sonic once more.

"The TARDIS is connected to your brain, so when she thinks you've achieved whatever she wants you to achieve, she'll let you go." He said.

"That's reassuring." She said. "Where does your Clara go while I'm here?" She asked him.

"You're pushing her consciousness to the back of her mind; so technically, you're sharing the same body."

"You look like him," she said, "like the Doctor from my realm."

"Really?" he asked, as if he already knew that fact. "Is he good to you?"

She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to upset him; she could tell this Doctor, her Time Traveler, was broken. The other Doctor, the Doctor from her universe, did treat her well, but there were the many times that he did not- times where he treated her like a thing less than human. Her Time Traveler was observing her now, and she felt slightly self-conscious she tried to formulate an answer.

"I think he's confused," she said carefully, "He does treat me well, but we're not friends, not really."

"Is he a good man?" he asked her.

"I think so," she said truthfully, "and if he isn't quite so yet, he defiantly has the potential to be."

"Help him, Clara. If he needs help, promise me you'll help him."

She didn't want to. This was going to alter her plans drastically, but she loved her Time Traveler to the seven moons of Curae and back. She did honestly and whole heartedly love him and as heartbreaking and impossible as it sounded, she would do anything he asked of her.

"I promise, my Time traveler, I swear to you."

* * *

She woke up with a pair of eyes upon her.

"Morning, Miss Oswald!" said the Doctor, scaring her half-dead.

"Doctor! You scared me! Oh- and you brought me food!" she said and sat up impossibly fast and reached for the tray of food he was holding. As soon as he put it on her lap, she started eating the oatmeal like she had never eaten in her life.

He laughed at her; she was surprised that it wasn't a laugh of scorn, but instead, it was that was equivalent to a friend's. Maybe, if they both weren't in this situation, they might have had a chance at being friends. She felt bad about how she wasn't keeping her promise she made to her Time Traveler, but he wasn't in her position and what he didn't know wouldn't kill him.

"You sure are hungry." He said, "Has Amelia been bringing you food every day?" At first she wasn't sure about whom he was talking about, but she made the connection that Amelia was in fact Amy, and she nodded.

"No." she said with her mouth full. "She comes every two or three days."

"That's not healthy, Miss Oswald. You could get really undernutrienated-"

"That's not even a word Doctor, and besides, I can't control when Amelia comes to bring me food. Your fucking boss does that."

"It's a word now." He said in a playful tone of voice, completely ignoring her latter statement. There was an uncomfortable silence as he watched her scarf down the rest of her oatmeal.

"Miss Oswald, I'm sorry, honestly, about this situation; I know you do not think that I understand but-" She cut him off.

"Please, let's not talk about this. I don't want to talk about this." She said as she glanced at the white walls. "Have you got any crayons?"

He smiled and walked over to her dresser. He started digging through the first drawer with his cheery grin never leaving his face. He found some crayons- a box of twenty-four Crayola crayons. (She had no idea why there were crayons. Maybe the dresser was like the TARDIS, bigger on the inside.) She violently grabbed the box out of his hand and took out the red and green crayons. She walked over to the wall and drew a lonely rose on the wall. (She was rubbish at drawing, well; at least she thought herself as a rubbish artist. So, she criticized it to no end.)

He had noticed that it looked lonely and decided to make it a friend; soon, there was a whole field of flowers and that old boring white wall was replaced with a field of flowers that were helping the rose feel a little less lonely, flowers that would keep the rose company till its dying days.

That was the second day he visited her and to be honest, that night, she didn't really want to see her Time Traveler. So instead, she stayed awake all night and thought about her day with the Doctor.

He kept visiting her, and with every passing day, she was forgetting about her promise to herself and remembering the one she made to her Time Traveler, whom she hadn't seen in a long time. (It had been eight days, but that seemed like a very long time.)

She didn't mean to; she really didn't, but she felt herself falling, not literally, but metaphorically. For the first time since her dick of a boyfriend, Rory, she actually might have been falling in love. She knew she was going to regret it but, she didn't care.

Every time he came to visit her, she saw less of the mad scientist and more of the wounded and hurt and kind and young (and attractive) man. She couldn't deny it; she was falling hard, and it should have been illegal for her to be in love, or just about in love, with the man who was partially responsible for her genetic make-up being completely rewritten in four days. She hated herself for it. It was unfair, really, of all the men on the whole planet to fall in love with, she had to choose this one; this bipolar man who was going to change everything human about her. She might as well just put herself in her own form of eternal damnation. (Oh wait, that's exactly what she did.)

She really hadn't even met him properly. It was two week she had been in this place; you don't just magically fall in love with someone in two weeks; maybe two months or two years, but not two weeks. She had four days left before her life as she knew it ended, and he helped her forget in his weird, alien, immature kind of way.

She counted down the days from four to the end. On day four, they drew little people on another wall and laughed at childish things. This time, when he left, he gave her a hug and she blushed a bright red and he did too, and he quickly excused himself.

During day three, he came and read the poetry book with (to) her. There were silly poems and depressing poems, but she was sitting close to him, and leaning against his shoulder on the floor, with their backs leaned against her bed. she smiled through them all. She fell asleep and awoke in the middle of the night in her bed, confused on how she got there in the first place.

It was day two when she realized that she was an awful situation. He came to visit her that day. She ate and she cried. She thought it weird that he was comforting her. He was supposed to be her enemy. He left when she stopped crying. She found the motivation to shower and get dressed and then wallowed around her room for the rest of the day, until she got tired and went to bed.

* * *

She had the privilege of meeting her Time Traveler, but this time, she felt something different; something was astray.

"Hello, Clara!" he greeted, "Meet Clara." And from behind him emerged another woman, who was a spitting image of herself.

"How- how are you doing this?" she asked, "How does she have a body?" he twirled his Sonic in the air and her doppelgänger laughed and rolled her eyes. The other Clara muttered something that sounded something that sounded like 'show off', which the Doctor heard and turned around to pout at her.

"I was able to have the TARDIS not only transport your mind, but you body too… so it's sort of like your having an out of body experience in another reality. Isn't that cool?"

"No, Doctor," said the other Clara, "It's quite strange."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"This is going to be my last visit with you, isn't it?" She interrupted. He looked at her with sad eyes that held her unspoken answer.

"I'm good to him, like I promised, my Time Traveler." She said, "He's a good man."

"Thank you." Said he with gratitude clearly inscribed upon his face.

"You are so lucky." She said to her doppelgänger, "You're so, so _lucky_ to have him; you get to see the stars. You are his world, you know. And I know that he's yours. You are so lucky." She said while happy sad tears ran down her face.

"I'm going to be rewritten in two days. Tomorrow is my last day being completely and utterly human." She told them through sad tears and wretched sobs. "I'm going to have another heart and new DNA." The Doctor and Clara, _his_ Clara, shared a look full of horror and pity.

"I will miss you, my Time Traveler. You have helped me so, so much. Take care of her, please, take care of her for me, and keep running; don't ever stop running, you clever, clever boy, and remember me. Dear god, please, don't ever forget who I am."

She felt herself fading and realized his TARDIS was letting her go. She must have accomplished whatever she was supposed to accomplish. She had found what she was lacking; she was lacking friends, and she had found two in the strangest of places.

* * *

It was the last day before _it, _and she didn't want to move. She wanted to die or lie around and do nothing for the rest of her life. The Doctor came in to visit her and, he saw her just lying there and asked her if she wanted anything to eat.

"No thanks."

"Miss Oswald, you must eat something." He responded.

"I'm not hungry, Doctor," she replied with a sigh, "I'm just really, really sad."

"Don't be sad, Miss Oswald. You're life won't end tomorrow; it'll be a new beginning." He said. She knew it was meant to comfort her, but it didn't. She didn't want a new beginning. She wanted to continue to be the little ordinary Clara Oswald; she didn't want to be, as they would call her, special. (She thought being 'special' was overrated.)

"That's not helping, Doctor." She said with her eyes closed. She didn't want him to see her cry again today.

"I'm sorry, Miss Oswald. Why don't you lie down?" he said. She sat back on her bed and fell into the pillows and blankets.

"Tell me a story, Doctor. Pretend I'm a little girl and tell me a story of a far away land." He looked at her quizzically and nodded as if complying with her wish only because it was her last day as a normal human being.

"Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was a very wealthy and greedy prince and he wasn't very nice. He wanted to rule over everyone and everything. For his sixteenth birthday, his mother gave him three personal slaves. Two of them died because he worked them too hard. The other one- she was impossible. She hated him and he hated her too. He took her from her home and family. She vowed to kill him one day."

"At first, he tried to scare her. Then, he tried to act like he cared for her so he could get close enough to kill her, but she still hated him. She hated him so much that she pretended to fall in love with him so that she could kill him, and he fell for it and overtime for her. She killed him when the time came. She thought she felt happy, but she realized that she was a monster, so she killed herself; she had learned to love him and couldn't bear to live without him."

"That's a terrible story. It didn't make me feel better." She said, "If anything, it's making me feel worse."

"It's not a revenge plot, Miss Oswald, and it never was; it's a love story of the highest degree."

"Bit like Romeo and Juliet, ain't it?"

"Sure, Miss Oswald," he said. They sat around and talked about small, unimportant things for the rest of the day.

"Well, good luck tomorrow, Miss Oswald." He said and walked towards the door.

"Please," she called to him before he could leave, "Stay." He looked at her, then at the door, than back at her again. She watched a smile grow on his face.

"Okay," he whispered. She scooted over in her bed (Which was very large for just one person.) He stopped by the bed and removed his bow tie and tweed and unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. He lifted up the countless number of blankets on the bed and got under them. he was careful to stay as far away from her as possible, but she kept creeping closer and closer to him until she eventually put her head in the crook of his arm.

"Do you dream, Doctor?" she asked him.

"Everybody dreams, Miss Oswald." He replied. She giggled a lazy, tired giggle that was laced with annoyance.

"I know that. What do you dream about, then?"

"I suppose," Said he, "I dream about where I'm going. What do you dream about?" he asked.

She didn't want to tell him, but she had nothing to lose. It was a rather personal thing to share with him, but there was a chance that she could die tomorrow so she thought why the hell not.

"I dream about a time traveling man." She said. "He's over one thousand years old and he's from a different planet and can travel anywhere and anytime ever in his blue police box." She was expecting him to laugh at her, but he didn't.

"Tell me more about him." He said, "He seems interesting."

"I fell in love with him, slowly and all at once, and I liked it. He was fun, and kind and a tiny bit mental; okay I lied, a lot mental."

"What's wrong with mental?"

"Nothin', still talking to you, right?" she replied. "But, he had to leave, well actually, I had to leave, and I don't think he's ever coming back."

"It's okay, Miss Oswald. He never really left. He'll always be in your heart."

"Am I going to die tomorrow?"

"No."

"Why do you say that?" she asked him.

"Because you're the strongest and bravest woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and it would be dissrepectful to let all your potential go to waste."

"Please, tell me you're not going to be operating on me tomorrow."

"I'm not that kind of Doctor." He said.

"Well, what kind of Doctor are you, then?"

"Just a general, ordinary, everyday doctor. I know how to do the basics, like blood tests and tissue samples; I just never really fancied performing surgeries."

"I'm scared, John." She said, and instantly regretted it. She wasn't supposed to call him by his first name; Professor Song didn't even call him by his first name. (She didn't think so, at least, but you never know.) Calling someone by their first name signified closeness and familiarity. She and the Doctor were the least bit close- ah screw it, they were sharing a bed, for god's sake; she was even using his arm as a pillow for crying out loud.

"It's okay to be scared. Scared keeps you alive. If anything, scared is the best thing you could be feeling right now." She nodded slightly and shut her eyes, wanting nothing more than for this to be a bad dream, but she was smarter than that. She knew that this was real; she knew that there was a chance that she could die tomorrow or be transformed into a beautiful monster. But she had hope; she had to hope that Amy had a plan for getting her out of this hell before her procedure tomorrow. That hope was all she had; and all she ever would if she didn't get out of this place soon.

* * *

**Hola! i edited this today (11/22/14) even though i posted it yesterday.**

**it took four hours to write and its composed of over 4,000 words. (No idea how i managed to type them all with out my hands falling off.**

**I've**** gotten reviews saying this chapter sad, to be honest, i didn't think it was... i don't know what that says about me but maybe it proved the fact that i don't have a soul.**

**also, to those of you who are speculating the outcome of this, in the words of River Song- _Spoilers! _you're just gonna have to stick around till the end!  
**

**Thank you for all the follows/favorites/reviews. they are always appreciated. (and they motivate me *hint hint* *wink wink*)**

**xoxo,**

**bleuboxes **

**PS- PLEASE REVIEW! ;P**

**AN 2: sorry for any grammatical/spelling mistakes. Please kindly notify me if there are any and i'll fix them as soon as possible.**


	4. Chapter 4

She awoke, and he was no longer there. She wanted to nudge it off, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She had bigger problems to worry about than an irrational need for him to be sleeping beside her. She took a shower and got dressed. She sat still and emotionless on her bed as she waited for Amy and Rory to pick her up.

Nobody came for at least twenty minutes, which gave her a chance to bite her fingernails to bone. Only Amy showed up and she whispered "Hang in there" in her ear. She nodded slightly and let Amy blindfold her. Amy led her to the hellish place that her life would be altered in.

A young blonde woman, whose name tag read Rose, removed her clothes and put her in a hospital gown. She filled out some papers, then led her into a room with an operating table and told her to sit.

"Professor Song will be in shortly." Rose said. In less than five minutes, the psycho was in the room and her hate fire rose significantly.

"I'm going to need you to sign this." Said Professor Song, handing her a clipboard.

"And if I don't?" she asked with defiance.

"I'll sign it for you."

"Alright," she reluctantly agreed, "I'm going to need a pen." Professor Song gave her one and she signed her name. When Professor Song came close, she tried to stab her with it. The pen went through her hand, causing the professor to scowl at her.

"Ow, sweetie, was that really necessary?"

"Absolutely, you _bitch_." She spat out. The Professor slowly pulled the pen out. She wiped the blood off of it on her pristine white lab coat, creating a scarlet stain.

"You better hope and pray that I don't slip up during that operation of yours. Wouldn't that be one hell of an _accident_?" She didn't respond. She wanted to be able to walk out of here alive, not to be carted out of this place in a casket.

"Good. Shut Up; don't say another word or I'll kill you before you can even say –"she turned her head to look at the figure emerging from the door. "Doctor! What a surprise!" The Professor finished.

"Get yourself ready, sweetie. I just began to prep her for you." Said the Professor with a sickly sweet smile on her face. She wasn't expecting that, but she should have been. She was more hurt than anything that he had lied to her. She stood up to walk over to him (so she could strangle him, maybe), but Professor Song stopped her in her tracks.

"Ah, how _cute_," Said the Professor in mocking tone of voice, "Miss Oswald's upset that the Doctor didn't tell her. Well, have I got news for you, sweetie, the Doctor always lies. Lies about people, lies about things, lies around- you name it."

"Everybody lies." She said. "Whether you like it or not."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Professor Song said, putting on the most fake hurt face she had ever seen.

"_No_, I would _never_."

"That's what I thought."

"You're lying." Said she.

"And you're in love with him and, what did you say to him about me earlier, hmm…. Oh that's it! I remember, _he couldn't give less of a shit about you."_

"That's a lie. That's a _fucking_ lie." Said she through gritted teeth.

"Go on and tell yourself that, sweetie. Can't deny what's true."

"Just shut up. _SHUT_ _UP_!" she screamed

"Whatever, Sweetie,"

"River, where's the scalpel?" The Doctor asked her, for which she was grateful. This was the end. She wanted to spend it gathering her thoughts, not arguing with a mad scientist. Professor Song found the scalpel and walked back over to her.

"Alright Clara, hold on tight." She said as she started to strap her legs to the table. The Doctor walked over to the door way, and threw out a piece of gum or something, when the door opened. There was a smack, and the Doctor fell to the floor with a thud. Professor Song temporarily stopped what she was doing to see what was going on and there was a loud boom, and the Professor screamed and clutched her shoulder.

Amy, god bless her soul, carried through. She quickly bent over and undid her clasp, and stood up and Amy ushered her out the door.

* * *

"C'mon!" screamed Amy, "There's an extraction team on the roof. Just follow me and _don't_ stop running."

"Okay," she said, "Just a sec, let me catch my breath."

"Clara, we have to go _now! _I only wounded River Song and The Doctor is starting to stir."

"Okay, okay. I'm ready." She said. Amy grabbed her hand and they started running through the corridors that twisted and turned. They seemed never ending, much like her Time Traveler's TARDIS. They ran into some people at a corner; two of Amy's bullets found their homes in their heads. Their bodies collapsed with a loud thud. Crimson puddles were forming on the floor surrounding their prostrate heads. It was a repulsive sight; Amy had killed them without a second thought, and she made a face. Amy had noticed and turned to look at her.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's kill or be killed."

"It's sick, that's what it is."

"Well that's what the world is, Clara. Especially this world, right here, right now. That's how it is, be the killer or be killed, and that's how it's always been. There is no alternative option." Said Amy through gritted teeth. They both heard voices, a man and a woman's, and footsteps. They shared a look, the infamous look that she knew all too well from seeing it on her Time Traveler's face, that clearly said _RUN. _(She didn't even think twice about it.)

* * *

They ran to the stairwell and she felt like she was going to be sick. She looked up, and saw that this building must have been at least thirty stories tall. She looked down, and concluded that she must have been on at least the fourth floor. (Twenty-Six floors to go! Yay…)

"Clara, Run as fast as you can up the stairs. I'll be right behind you, and even if I'm not, don't ever stop running. "Amy said. They turned their heads to the sounds of approaching footsteps.

"Go, Clara." Amy said forcefully. She hesitated, and decided to give Amy a hug.

"Thank you, Amy. I'll never forget you." She said and starting running as fast as she could up the stairs. She ran up four flights before she needed to take a break; it was only a five second break because she hadn't a moment to spare. She started running again. She heard the distant crackling of laughter. She heard the loud popping sound of two gunshots. Then, she heard a series of grunts and fighting noises. There was a click of a gun being cocked, and another gunshot. She listened to Amy's scream and how the life was drained out of it. Amy was dead, and though she didn't pull the trigger, if felt as if she had. Her hands felt unclean. But, she had to keep going so she would be able to make it out of here alive and honor her memory of Amy. She kept going. She made it to the top, with the Doctor and Professor Song right behind her.

She tried to open the door that led to the roof, but it was stuck. She tried shaking it as hard as she could; she kicked it, but still, the door wouldn't budge and she was running out of time. She heard their footsteps, and she turned around only to see the Professor with an exceptionally angry expression on her face.

"Where do you think you're going, Sweetie?"

"Hopefully, an ocean away from you." She said. The Doctor just made it to the top of the stairs and half dragged himself to be beside his psychotic boss. She let out a low chuckle full of dark intent.

"John, pass me the syringe." She held out her hand. He was unresponsive. "JOHN!" she screamed, and this time he listened to her. She hated her, that woman, and in that moment, she knew she had to do something to stop her from doing any damage to anyone else; she had to stop being selfish and she had to think of the next woman, the next victim, who would take her place if she died.

* * *

She lunged at the Professor, and she didn't seem to be expecting her to do that. The syringe flew out of her hand and up into the air, as she slammed Professor Song to the cold, concrete ground. The Doctor caught the syringe, to her disappointment, but she had a much bigger situation to worry about.

Professor Song was much stronger than her and in much better physical condition. She didn't care. Never in her life had she wanted to kill anybody; this was a new feeling, and she craved it. The bloody bandage had fallen off, (Well, actually, she had ripped it off) and started to bleed. Any chance she got, she would try to harm the wounded area, because from watching all those cop shows on TV, she knew that the area was sore and hurting it would be a torturous experience.

There was a struggle for power, and she gradually lost control of the fight. The professor soon had her pinned to the ground. She refused to stay still; she was wiggling and squirming in attempts to get out of Professor Song's clutches.

"John, syringe, now." Professor Song said. He handed it to her. She wanted to cry, but she didn't. She was stronger than her fear. The Professor put it against her neck. She wasn't sad, she wasn't angry; she didn't feel anything but hate.

"Ready, sweetie?" Professor Song asked her.

"Whenever you are, bitch." She spat. She felt the needle enter her flesh. It didn't hurt, it didn't sting; It was just there. It was intruding her, just like Professor Song had ever so kindly intruded her seemingly normal life.

"Just answer me this," she said, "Why me? Out of all the people on the earth, why'd you have to choose me?"

"Because you, Clara Oswald, are impossible." She responded.

The door shot open with a bang. The Professor quickly removed the syringe, and she felt a warm liquid seep through the midsection of her hospital gown. Professor Song had a look of horror on her face as she suddenly crashed down on to her body. A dark skinned man and woman, both clad in black and armed, hauled the dead body off her. Another man, this one was familiar looking, came through the door. He helped her up, and helped her walk out the door to the roof, where there was a helicopter waiting.

"Clara, were almost there, just a few more steps, okay?"

She and the man were the last to make it on the helicopter. She tried to look out at the sky, but her eyesight was blurry; her body was in pain, and they weren't in the air for five minutes before she started screaming.

"Amelia," Screamed the familiar man, "We were too late! She needs to go under the procedure now." He yelled to the pilot. The pilot, Amelia, looked very similar to Amy. That scared her a little bit. Then she remembered where she had seen the familiar man, he was Rory. She screamed again, in both terror and pain.

She felt like she was burning. All parts of her felt like they were on fire. Everything was painful and the only thing she could do was scream. She didn't understand what was happening to her. She tried closing her eyes, which didn't help, so she just kept them open.

"Rory said a voice that sounded quite similar to the Doctor's, "she needs to go under now. I know how to do the procedure, she taught me. I know how this feels, she's in a lot of pain, this is the only way, Rory, please trust me, _please_."

"Martha, give the man the anesthetic. Mickey, get the surgical tools and…. Things. AMELIA-" he yelled, "STEP ON IT!"

She continued to scream as she started to cry. She realized she was changing, her whole life and her whole body was changing and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Miss Oswald, shhhh, listen, it's going to be alright. I know, shh, I know it hurts, but just hold on. You'll be okay; everything's gonna be okay." Said the man, and she knew it was the Doctor just by the way he said her name. She didn't care at this point. She felt something penetrate her skin; it was cold against her burning body. She fell asleep in a fit of painful ragged screams.

* * *

She woke up in a completely different environment than which she had fallen asleep. It was calm and serene in the room. The walls were a mellow honeysuckle color, much unlike the harsh white walls she had seen for the past three weeks or so. She was hooked up to a monitor that was going twice the pace that it should have been going.

Her body no longer felt as if it was on fire, which was a relief. She knew that she was no longer in that hellish place, thank god. She remembered something about surgical tools, and checked her chest area for scarring or incision marks. There weren't any. But, she didn't understand why the heart monitor was going at the pace it was- it just didn't make sense.

"Good Morning, Clara!" greeted Amelia, the girl who looked just like Amy. That was another thing she needed to add to the list of things she didn't understand.

"You're dead." She said. "I watched you die. Oh my god, does that mean I'm dead too? I can't be dead, I have a job and my dad, oh my dad, what's he gonna do now that I'm- I'm not dead. You're giving me the look."

"The Amy that you knew was a robot. Authorized Motorized Individual. Or Amy. Rory made a fuss about the spelling. That's why it said not to trust Rory. Sorry about that."

"And the Doctor, why is he here. He worked for Professor Song…"

"Clara, I can't explain that to you, it's not my place to tell. But, I promise that he's not going to hurt you."

"So he's not going to lie to me anymore?" she asked.

"The Doctor always lies, Clara, and he always will. But he's a good person, and he does it to protect people, so don't let it get to you." But it was too late for that. The lies had already wounded her love struck heart.

"So, where am I?"

"You're in New York." Amelia said, "You were out for three days."

"Oh." She said. "I must have been tired."

"Yeah." Said Amelia. Clara looked at the heart monitor once again. It still was going at a higher pace than it should have.

"I think you need a new one of those. It's broken." She said.

"No, Clara, it's not." Said Amelia with a sigh, "We had to go ahead with your surgery. She had injected you with the DNA manipulator and without the extra heart, you would have died."

"No- No _NO_!" she screamed, "There's no- no mark or anything, you're lying. _You're Lying_!"

"No, the serum causes all wounds to heal faster than normal and they don't leave a scar. This is your life now, Clara."

"No- it's not. I'm still the teacher from a private school; I'm still an ordinary young woman." She said hysterically.

"I'm sorry, but you need to calm down."

"Oh my god, who's going to want a freak with two hearts?" she questioned herself.

"Clara, calm down."

"Nobody is ever going to love me, I won't be able to have children; I've always wanted children." She said. "This is a fate worse than death." She started bawling.

"I'll be right back." Said Amelia, as she excused herself from the room, leaving her alone with her tears. She cried for everything that had happened to her. It wasn't fair; why did it have to be her- she wasn't even special. And now, she was going to be a freak for the rest of her life. The door opened again, but she didn't bother to look at who entered. She was preoccupied with crying her eyes out at that moment.

"Hello, Miss Oswald."

"Go away." She said through muffled sobs.

"You get used to it, eventually." He said and sighed.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I have two hearts now- do you have any idea what it's like- Nobody's going to want to love me, Doctor. I'm a freak now. Nobody ever likes freaks."

"We could be freaks together, then." He said. She looked at him, and he had a shy smile on his face, but the smile was also sad and full of remorse.

"What do you mean." She asked him.

"I mean," he said, picking his words carefully, "wait; give me your hand." She put her hand in his, and he put it against his chest. She felt one heart beating.

"You're normal what are you saying?"

"Just wait." He said. And moved her hand over and she felt a different beat. "I meant it when I said I understood what you were going through, Miss Oswald."

"How, why didn't I realize? I should have felt it." she asked herself more so than him, even though he answered.

"Because we only notice the things that we are looking for."

"I'm sorry." She said, "For the way I treated you. Maybe we could be friends?" she asked hesitantly. He smiled. (Her hearts melted when he smiled at her) and she smiled back. The pair of them erupted into a fit of giggles for no reason.

"I have two hearts now!" she said in the midst of a giggle, "two times the capacity to love!" They both laughed again; they were acting like five year olds, but she didn't mind.

"Yes, Miss Oswald!" he said, "Be the optimist! Be the dreamer of far flung dreams!"

"Clara," she said to him, suddenly serious, "If I'm your friend, I want you to call me Clara."

"Alright, Clara," he said and kissed the top of her head, "that's a nice name, you should keep it."

"I'd have to say the opposite about that chin of yours, Doc."

"What's wrong with my Chin?"

"Watch out! You'll poke my eye out with that thing!" she said.

They bantered back and forth for the rest of the day. He said at the end that he should leave, but she begged him to stay; she said friends have sleep overs, and she moved over in her hospital bed and made room for him. They didn't sleep much, but they talked about the stars and about what was to come. And for the first time in weeks, she felt that something, although it came from a horrible thing, was actually going her way.

* * *

**QUICK UPDATE! :D **

**Um its thanksgiving break and i am really really happy because we got like six inches of snow and snow is my favorite thing in the world. (After Doctor Who of course!) **

**I'll highly suggest reading this then listening to 'The Ballad of Mona Lisa' by Panic! at the Disco, because that song is amazing and helped trigger some (Most) of the inspiration for this chapter!**

**Happy Thanksgiving to those American's who are reading this... btw.**

**PLEASE REVIEW/FAVORITE/FOLLOW and feel free to check out my other stories! :)**

**XOXO**

**bleuboxes**

**AN 2: please kindly let me know if I missed any mistakes and I will fix them asap!**


	5. Chapter 5

They had become fast friends, if you could even call it friendship. He had told her all about what had happened to him. He said that he was the seventh male patient; the first one that had survived the procedure. He was hired by his captor, Professor River Song, to find a woman that would be able to survive the process and would be suitable as a companion. She, as he said, was the fourth woman that was taken ever so abruptly by River's cronies.

According to the Doctor, River Song was not working alone. She was part of SWF Medical Industries, which was hatching an idea of a space colony that wasn't publicized by the media much. It was completely cracked up and it made her feel sick.

It had been a week since she had gotten out of that hell hole, and Martha and Mickey, who had been monitoring her to make sure she was recovering, told her that she was allowed to leave the hospital room. She was provided with a flat (Which was on a higher floor in the building that she currently was lodging in) so they could continue to monitor her to make sure that she didn't die.

She still hadn't been able to make any contact with her father. According to what Amy had told her, he had been informed that she was involved in a clinical medical trial, and she wouldn't be back home for at least three months. While it wasn't a total lie, it wasn't the absolute truth either.

She was slowly regaining all the weight that she had lost while she was busy trying to find a way to not die in that place. Amy and Martha had suggested for her to go for a walk. Apparently, they weren't very far from Central Park.

"I can't go alone! Someone might, I don't know, take me again."

"Well, duh, we weren't just gonna send you out all alone!" Said Amy, looking from her to Martha, who rolled her eyes.

"Clara," said Martha, "John had suggested that he could take you. You know, to walk around and do stuff."

"Yeah," she said with a smile, "that'd be nice."

"How does tomorrow sound for you?" asked Amy.

"Um, sorry I'm booked. Doing absolutely nothing all day." She said with sarcasm dripping heavily.

"All right, I'll tell him it's a go, then." Said Amy with a laugh.

Martha and Amy stood up and started to walk out of her flat, but before they could walk through the door, she piped up.

"Have you got any normal clothes, I don't really think hospital gowns are in style. Also, what month is it? I don't expect it to still be the beginning of April…"

"Oh, Clara, sorry about that. God- it totally slipped my mind. It's June fourth. I think Martha has some clothes for you. Maybe John can take you shopping tomorrow?" said Amy.

"Okay, wow. Um, thanks Amy." She responded, "And do you by any chance happen to know the WIFI password, you know, for the computer?"

"It's _rucbar711. _You want to catch up on some news?" Amy said playfully.

"Yeah."

"Alright, see you around, Clara."

They left her alone in her flat, which was quite similar in size to the humongous hospital room she had been in. except now, her bed was plush and comfortable; there was a dresser, a desk with a computer that was very hi-tech, and a nightstand with a cute little lamp. She was free to come and go as she pleased, even though she never really felt like leaving her flat.

* * *

She was in the middle of doing nothing, when Martha came in with her clothes for tomorrow. They were folded neatly in a small stack, with shoes daintily placed on top. She said thank you as Martha was leaving the room, then she walked over to the window.

She looked down at the many people walking along the busy New York street. They all seemed so oblivious to major problems, just as she once had been. She was jealous and plagued with envy as she watched laughing families walking by. There was so much love and she didn't think she was ever going to be able to have that, even though it was possible with that one person that she did happen to love because he didn't look at her with the longing eyes that she had when she looked at him; it was obvious that he didn't like her that way that she liked him.

She knew, of course, that those families had their own problems, but they were ordinary and uncomplicated. They were lucky. She would have given everything just to be ordinary, or to be home with her father, or anything just to have a completely normal, even boring, life.

The day passed quicker than anticipated, and for that she was grateful. She was excited to finally be able to go outside for the first time in a month. She almost didn't remember what fresh air felt like against her skin. It was a terrifying thought, so she ceased thinking of it and instead, she thought of what she and the Doctor would do all day.

Maybe they would people watch; she enjoyed watching people. It was a bit strange, but then again, so was she. She liked to look at people and imagine what is going through their minds, and she liked to try and imagine what kind of person they are just solely based on their appearance and movements. Maybe they would walk around, or maybe they would lay and watch the clouds, or maybe even act like normal people, normal people that may be lovers even though they, themselves, didn't even know it yet. (Oh, how she desperately hoped that they would do the last one.)

It was sickening, really, how much she loved him. She had only known him for a month, and she was already undoubtedly smitten with him. She wished she hadn't fallen; she wished that she wouldn't have to deal with the rejection- he saw her only as a friend. But, she didn't regret falling in love; she would never regret it, because even though this man, this _boy,_ had brought her great physical pain, he had helped her so much. It was as they say, _It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. _She was going to love. She was going to lose. And she was perfectly okay with that.

* * *

The next day couldn't have come fast enough. She bolted awake with a smile on her face. She jumped out of bed and ran sluggishly over to dresser, where she grabbed the clothes Martha had brought her yesterday. She chose to wear a cute black collared red dress with a printed pattern. It seemed small for Martha, who was a little taller than her. Maybe it was a gift or something. She did not have time to care, because she looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror, she noticed that the dress fit her perfectly and the color looked quite good on her.

Martha also left her shoes- little ankle high dirt brown boots that made her feel even more confident in her appearance. She put her hair in a low bun at the back of her head. Feeling well enough to go outside in what she was wearing, she sat down to look out her window once again and let out a content sigh.

She was excited to finally be able to go outside. She would run, oh, how she wanted to run, not for her life, but because she could, because she wanted to. She was deep in thought and didn't hear the Doctor enter the room.

"Hello, Clara!" he exclaimed cheerfully, making her jump slightly and look over at him.

"Hi, John!" she replied, "You scared me for a second. I didn't even hear you come in." He let out a chuckle which made her smile.

"Well, c'mon then! Daylight's wasting!" he said. She stood up from her chair and walked towards the door. He was trailing close behind her, and closed the door after he exited her flat. She waited for him to go ahead of her, because she had no idea where she was going. The Doctor led her through hall to the elevator where they waited for it in a silence that was on the brink of being uncomfortable.

The elevator ride was long (they were or the twentieth floor) and the silence was unnerving, though, she was not sure why. He kept looking at her, little indiscrete glances that he probably thought she wouldn't notice. She did. She pretended not to pay attention to them, but she couldn't stop the tiny smile that appeared on her face. He noticed that, and blushed a deep shade of crimson.

"Thanks for volunteering to take me to the park today." She said as they emerged from the elevator.

"Really, Clara, I'm glad to." He said, "After all you went through, it's really the least I can do. Besides, we're friends, and that's what friends do, right?"

"You sound as if you never really had any friends." She said as they exited the building's main lobby on the ground level. She felt the moist humid summer air touch her skin like tiny baby fingers and let out a gasp of shock and surprise.

He looked at her, a bit scared and she let out a laugh as they walked down the street, attracting the attention of grumpy business people, who looked at them with disdain, and tourists and street vendors, who looked at them and smiled smiles that seemed to scream out 'young love' _ If only…_ she thought.

"Clara, are you alright?" he asked. The question was full of concern.

"I've never been better" she said with a huge smile and gave him a hug, "now, Doctor, which way's the park?"

He, much like her Time Traveler's TARDIS, had no sense of direction, so they had to ask a vendor which way. He laughed and pointed right over their heads to a gated area full of trees.

"Oh my god." she said to him after they walked away, "That was embarrassing."

"Well, we found it, didn't we?" he said.

"Why are you so optimistic?" she asked.

"Why aren't you?" he bantered right back. She ignored his question. They were there. There were children running around and runners doing their morning jog and people sitting on benches and birds flying and there was so much life she couldn't handle it. She took off running over to the nearest tree where she skipped around it in happiness and joy. She was laughing, actually laughing, for no reason except for the fact that she was happy.

She sat down on the grass and laid back, looking at the unblemished baby blue sky and the green leaves of the oak tree she was under. Her laughing became more controlled and John, who was out of breath, came over and lay down next to her.

"Clara, you must have a lot of energy." He said through deep breaths. She continued to giggle.

"I'm happy, John." She replied simply, "I'm so very happy right now." She looked at his face and smiled. He smiled back and her hearts melted.

"So, John, I don't really know many best friend-y things about you." she said; he looked puzzled.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, like what's your favorite ice cream flavor? Or, or… what's your favorite season?" she asked?

"I like all ice cream. There is no flavor that I don't enjoy. And I guess I like the fall. I don't know. Aren't these questions a bit pointless?" he asked.

"No, it's not pointless. Ask me a question!" she said.

"Fine… What type of music do you listen to?"

"Any thing really." She replied.

"Clara," he said, "Could you tell me more about the time traveling man from your dream? If you don't mind, of course, it's just, I don't know, I must be curious. You don't have to-"

"I'd love to, John." She said. She moved closer to him and put her head on his chest and he grew stiff, then relaxed. She closed her eyes, trying to remember every last detail of him.

"Well, I never really saw his face, but he was strange and beautiful, and the saddest eyes I ever did see. But, the first time I met him, it was Victorian London. I think I was a governess or something… I don't really remember. There were flesh eating snowmen that were controlled by snow that had the mind of a fifty year old child. He asked me to come away with him; said I could go anywhere at any time. I could run away with him. I think I kissed him somewhere in between. He was a _very _good kisser by the way." She said, and he laughed, "But then, an ice Lady that the snow wanted grabbed me and threw me off the cloud. Then I died." She finished.

"Oh, well then." He said sounding shocked, "Did you 'die' in all the dreams?"

"No, just that one." She responded.

"I think I loved him." She said after a moment of silence. "I don't know how, or why, but I did. And I think I hurt him when I left because it felt like I was tricking him- making him think that I was real. The dream was all I had, I guess. It felt so real, I couldn't really tell it apart from reality."

"Were they good dreams, Clara?" he asked?

"The very best." She said with the deepest sincerity.

"Then that's all that matters."

"John?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Why are you so nice to me? I've treated you like shit for almost all the time I have known you, but you are just so kind. I don't know." She sighed.

"It's hard not to be nice to you, Clara, to be perfectly honest. I guess I don't want you to have to face this alone, like I had to. No one deserves to go through this, especially you." He said. She sat up, and then stood up.

"I want to do something. Not that lying there wasn't fun, it's just, it's so beautiful out, and I haven't been outside in such a long time and-"

"Alright, Clara, where do you want to go?" he asked. She looked around and squinted off into the distance, where she thought she saw swings. She didn't respond to his question; just grabbed his hand and pulled him, causing him to grunt in surprise and run with her.

"Where are we going?" he asked?

"The swings!"

* * *

They stayed there for the rest of the day. She didn't want to go shopping, maybe next time. As the sun began to set, he had to pull her out of the swing so that they would be able to make it home before dark. They did, without any help. The elevator ride up wasn't awkward on the way up, but full of childish jokes and laughter. He walked with her down the hallway, until they reached their parallel doors.

"Thanks for taking me, John. I had a great time."

"Likewise, Clara." He said with a smile.

"We'll have to do it again some time."

"Yeah, definitely." He said. Before she could stop herself from showing any more signs of affection, she kissed his cheek (For just a second too long, although it was pretty brief), which caused him to turn ruby red and her as well.

"Well, good night, John. See you tomorrow." She opened her door and closed it before she could even give him a chance to respond. She slunk down against to door and on to the floor where she cradled her face in her hands, deciding whether she was happy about the day, or a little anxious about the (not-so) friendly gesture that she just acted out.

_Well, Clara, you either did something really good, or just completely fucked up. _And for some odd reason, her gut was telling her to go with the latter, but her heart said otherwise.

* * *

**All right! this is sort of a filler chapter and filled with less action packed stuff than the last chapter. i wasn't really sure where i was gonna go with this story, but hopefully i answered some questions about the villain/plot and stuff. if i didn't i probably will.**

**i made Clara really really childish in this and that's because if i was locked inside for a month (against my free will, like with out internet) i would probably act like that too. **

**anyway, I CANT BELIEVE ITS ALMOST 2015 LIKE HOLY SHIT IT WAS 2004 LIKE THIRTY SECONDS AGO!**

**Please Review/favorite/follow because its almost Christmas and you'll get a virtual cookie. **

**xoxo,**

**bleuboxes **

**AN 2: let me know if there are still any mistakes and I will fix them as soon as I can! (just don't be rude about it)**


	6. Chapter 6

It was strange feeling, and it to her a while to get back into the swing of domestic life after being held as a captive for about one month. She didn't quite realize the luxury of just simply being able to do what she wanted when she wanted, such as exiting her flat, or putting on clothes that weren't uniforms. She had the motivation to do now; it was enticing and rich and she didn't want to stop.

In a two week span, she and John had went shopping and back to the park on several occasions since the day on the swings. She felt more alive than ever, and for the first time since her life altering surgery, everything seemed to be looking up.

It was a Tuesday evening and she was binge watching 'Supernatural' when she heard a loud knock on the door. She didn't move her eyes from the television screen or her body an inch from her position on the couch as she yelled.

"Come in!" the door creaked open and shut with a quiet slam.

"Hey, Clara." Said John, "What'cha watching?"

"Supernatural."

"Isn't that the show with those demon hunters and the one ship that denies their love for one another?" He asked.

"Yeah, pretty much. Now would you please shut up? I can't hear what Sam is saying."

"He's not even talking. The other guy's killing something!"

"John, just sit down and be quiet so I will be able to hear the creature's shrieks of terror without interruption."

She had somehow ended up with her head resting against his shoulder and his one arm was wrapped around her small upper frame. They finished that episode, and were twenty one seconds to late to shut off Netflix, so they watched and became quickly captivated the next five episodes. (She didn't regret any of it.)

"American television is so strange." He said.

"I like it." she responded, "Plus, all the actors are attractive and have those American accents." He rolled his eyes, which made her giggle. She stood up and walked over to the kitchen to check the time.

"Holy shit! John, it's eleven –thirty, damn it. Martha is going to be pissed. I've got to go to bed; god, I sound like an eight year old." She said; he laughed.

"No, I understand. You don't want an angry Martha Jones- that's a very nasty thing. I'll be going then. G'night, Clara." He kissed her forehead and sped out the door before she could even bid him a farewell. She quickly got ready for bed and tucked herself in. she slowly fell to sleep.

* * *

At first, it was a peaceful sleep and happy images bombarded her head. But after a while, she remembered how she had kissed him on the cheek. It was an innocent thing, really; she wasn't quite sure why she was so terrified of it.

John had grabbed her as she turned to run back inside her flat. He pulled her close, and moved his grip to her forearm. She looked at him and his face began to transfigure into Professor River Song's, who had a vicious snarl on her face. River let out a malicious laugh and adjusted her grip, yet again. This time, River wrapped her hands around her neck, choking her. She was lifted up by River, and she tried to pry River's fingers from her neck so she would be able to breathe once more.

"Oh, Clara, you can't get rid of me that easily." River said. She couldn't breathe and she tried to open her mouth to scream, but there was nothing. She felt her eyes grow heavy and the world grew black around her and she heard River Song's terrifying laughter.

She didn't wake up, but instead, her mind wavered her to the TARDIS, which surprised her. She hadn't ever expected to return to this marvel again.

"Hello?" She called out. Her voice echoed on an on through the infinite corridors. A sudden emptiness enveloped her. It was too quiet- too eerie, and it frightened her.

The doors suddenly opened with a rush of cold air and she let out a quiet gasp of shock. He looked sad, so very sad, and angry. His Clara was lying limp in his arms. He was crying- and it hurt her to see him so upset.

"Doctor!" she called out. He didn't respond, and if he heard her at all he refused to acknowledge her presence. Instead, he sat down and cradled the limp girl's body and cried. He checked for a pulse, and she watched him let out a shaky laugh through his tears. He kissed the girls face, her closed eyelids, her forehead, her lips, and he kissed the crook of her neck.

He stood up and carried his Clara down the corridors whispering to her in a language that sounded both chilling and beautiful, much like a sad song. She followed him silently as if she were a ghost. He carried the girl's body into a bedroom and gently placed his Clara on the bed, which looked large enough for a small elephant.

"You'll be okay, Clara," he said, "you'll okay. You're the impossible girl; you have to be alright. I couldn't live-" the girl let out a shaky small breath. He kissed Clara's forehead and gently pushed the hair out of her face. He stood up to leave and made his way over to the door frame, where she was currently standing and watching the whole thing. She didn't move, she hoped that he would notice her, but she was completely proven wrong; he walked right through her. She was scared – he had always seen her before. She followed him back to the TARDIS's console room.

"Doctor, look, it's me! It's the other Clara! The girl from the other dimension- please_, look at me!_" she was practically begging him, "_Please_."

"He can't hear you." said a woman whom she had never seen before, "I'm making sure he can't see you."

"Why? Who the hell are you?" she asked trough salty tears that stung her cheeks.

"I am his TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. Though, sometimes he calls me Sexy, and the ginger girl called me Idris, and your alternate self calls me Old Cow. That's a tad rude, isn't it?" she said quite fast.

"Yeah… what?"

"He can't see you- he mustn't see you."

"Stop groaning. I'm trying to think!" shouted the Doctor, who was reading his Advanced Quantum Mechanics book for about the third time this week, to his machine.

"He can't see you?" she asked the TARDIS.

"No, I'm just a ghost; a fragment of dust blowing along the winds of time, and so are you."

"Then why am I here? Why can't he see me?"

"Why, dear, you're here, but your body's not. It's all in your head."

"So, it's not real, then."

"Clara, of course it's real. I can't tell you why I brought you back here. Shhh, it's a secret."

"You're mad- the lot of you are."

"What's wrong with mad? Isn't it… interesting?" the peculiar woman asked.

"I'm still talking to you." She said, causing the TARDIS to smile.

I do not know why I brought you here. Perhaps there is trouble brewing, or it has already brewed. Oh- coffee brews or it percolates, or perks- _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_, wall, just another brick in-"

"What?"

"Sorry, tenses, always so trivial. There is trouble, was trouble, will be trouble here and where ever you are. He'll need your help and you'll need his. Isn't that right, Thief?" she asked.

"Sexy, I've had a _really _bad day and though I normally really do enjoy listening to you babble, could you please just _shut up?"_

"He likes when people listen to him more than listening to other people." The TARDIS whispered to her and giggled like a young child. "Oh, Clara, it's almost time to go. Bye, Bye! Oh, and before you go, I like you much better than the Clara he has with him. The Old man has gone and fallen in love with her. I'm trying, tried- ugh! Verbs- to like her for his sake, but it's hard to because she refused to call me nice names." The TARDIS said with a pout evident on her face.

"_SEXY! PLEASE BE QUIET!" _Screamed the Doctor. The TARDIS ignored him and rambled on about how he should be more respectful to the machine that lugs his butt around everywhere. She made a _'what the fuck' face_ in return. (The TARDIS didn't catch her, thank god, or the machine might have gone on to talk about her manners)

"Well, I best be off. See you… soon?" she said.

"Yes, soon or later, or now; I'm seeing you now." Said the TARDIS. She once again made the face at her. "Bye." She said and pinched herself, hopefully hard enough to wake herself up.

* * *

She awoke in her own actual bed. She was drenched in a cold sweat and she had a raw throat. She tried not to remember the dream about River, but that task proved nearly impossible. It scared her, though it shouldn't have; River was dead and hopefully buried six feet under the cold earth.

It was scary. She hadn't had a nightmare since she had been in that awful place, and the Doctor, her time traveling Doctor, came and got rid of them for her. What was equally terrifying was her experience with the TARDIS on the TARDIS, who was equally as mental as the Doctor himself.

The TARDIS had said that something terrible was going to happen to both her and her Time Traveler. She tried not to think much of it, but it was hard not to think of a conversation such as crazy and mad as that one had been.

It was four thirty in the morning and she didn't want to go back to bed in fear that River Song would once aging return to plague her sleep. Just thinking of that dreadful woman made her hearts beat out of her chest in utter fear. So instead, she turned on the television and put on some old Disney films that were light hearted and funny so she would be able to forget about her dreams for a little while. (Liquor would have worked so much better, but she didn't have any, and if she did Martha would have taken it away from her because it wasn't good for her health. And even if she managed to slip some past Martha, it was well before the acceptable drinking time, _although_ it was five o'clock somewhere.)

At seven o'clock in the morning, she finally got her bum off the couch and went into the kitchen to eat some cereal. When she finished, she went to go put on some comfy sweatpants and a tank top. She didn't want to do anything that day besides being a couch potato. She didn't even want to see John today, not because she didn't like him, but because she knew that he wouldn't be able to help her with her profane mental condition.

She had come to the conclusion that she hated dreams by noon. She hated how nightmares left her scared and with a weird taste in her mouth; she hated how she was suddenly paranoid that River Song was watching her. She hated nice dreams too. They were liars and scoundrels giving you something you most desired, only to take it away when your eyelids were greeted with the fresh morning light. She had been given everything she had wanted, or what she didn't know she wanted. And it wasn't fair that it wasn't real, or at least that's what she would tell herself.

It was three in the afternoon and she was once again and to enthralled with 'Supernatural' and her tub of ice cream to hear him enter the flat. It surprised her to feel a warm calloused hand on her shoulder, and at first, she thought it was the Professor and she tensed up.

"Clara, are you alright?" it was John, thank goodness. He seemed to have noticed her flinch when he touched her.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just, this show has a lot of emotional crap in it and the last episode was sort of creepy." She said.

"Are you sure? Because usually when someone eats three quarters of a tub of ice cream, it means they're eating their eating their feelings away, which also means that something pretty bad or something emotionally scarring happened." He deducted. She was angry; it was none of his business.

"You wouldn't understand," she said with a twinge of anger.

"Oh yeah, try me." He responded.

"Please, just trust me. You wouldn't." she said.

"Clara, I went through the same thing as you. C'mon, I can help."

"No, John you can't!" she cried, "Have you been plagued by nightmares, that fucking turned into that psychotic friend of yours, then she killed me- and she was dead. Then the fucking TARDIS turned into a crazy lunatic. My alternate self almost died and the time traveling Doctor couldn't see me – all while an insane machine lady said that trouble was coming in three tenses." She screamed.

"What?" he asked.

"Exactly." She said.

"What's a TARDIS?"

"Jesus Christ, I just told you about my psycho dreams and your worried about _that_?" she asked, "It's a time machine that travels in space."

'A time traveling doctor?" he asked with a smirk.

"I knew him before you, chin boy."

"Oi! What the hell's wrong with my chin?" he asked in defiance.

"Watch it, John; that thing is a dangerous weapon."

"You're impossible." He muttered.

"That's why you like me." She said and she winked. She watched the blood rush to his face. They watched at least six more episodes that day, and took a break to order pizza. She was still a little lost on who Amy and the people that were helping her worked for, so she asked him about it.

"Oh, Amy and the Gang, they work for U.N.I.T., I did for a while too, but we had a... falling out of sorts."

"What's U.N.I.T.?" she asked him.

"It's a military organization. I think the American's have a branch or something, S.H.I.E.L.D. I think. Though those two never did seem to get along."

"So," she said after taking a bite of pizza, "SWF is crazy. U.N.I.T. has us here- protecting us from SWF and the media or some other group of mad scientists that want to dissect us and send us to the moon."

"Pretty much," he said, "I wasn't allowed to be in on much of the plan."

"But why did you ever go to the SWF people?" She said while taking the finishing bite of her pizza.

"People do weird things when their in love, Clara." He said in a dream like state.

"I wouldn't know, well, maybe. I was in love with a dream. So, I guess that counts. I left my Time Traveler because I loved him… you know, '_if you love me let me go…"_ from that Panic! At the Disco song?"

"Who's Panic! At the Disco?"He asked, "And, I probably should have let her go. It would have decreased the amount of damage – for both me and you and all the others in between." She chose to ignore to ignore the second part of his statement; she didn't feel like listening to how lovesick he was with that maniac of a Professor.

"You don't know of Panic! At the Disco?" she asked, "their like a pop punk gay stripper band. They are fabulous."

"And you're crazy."

"I'm okay with that."

"Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked out of the blue. She was a little frightened to go to bed and meet her dear friend, River Song.

"Yeah, sure." He said.

"Thank you, John." She said, "I'm just scared of my dreams. It sounds so childish, I know, but it's a rational fear."

"It's completely normal to be scared of dreams, Clara."

"I like how you say my name. She blurted out, and then realized what she had said, and quickly turned a rosy red and he did the same.

"Oh," he replied, "Alright."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

"I'm not apologizing to you." she stated, "well, maybe I am, but I'm mostly apologizing to myself because I have made a grave mistake and it will only bring me pain."

"Well, I'm here, so if you would like to tell me, I'm here to listen, Clara. I'm your friend; I'll always listen to you."

"Thanks, John, but would rather not talk about it."

"Okay."

They spent the rest of the night just watching movies snuggled against each other on the couch until they grew tired of watching the television and she was terribly tired. He tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead and bid her good night.

"John, c'mon, I'll move over. I promise I don't bite."

"Clara, the couch is fine, really." He said.

"I'll take none of it- right here, right now."

"Alright." He said. He went to his flat to change into clothes more suitable for sleeping in. when he returned, he climbed into the bed, and he kept his distance from her, but just as the last time, she scooted closer to him.

"Good night, John." She said.

"Good night, Clara." He said, and she was surprised when his lips captured hers, although it was just a brush, most likely accidental, it made her hearts rush with joy and she felt a rush of happiness and she drifted to sleep with a smile on her face.

She had the same nightmare as she did last night, except she didn't visit the TARDIS. He woke her up; she was screaming bloody murder and shaking.

"Shhh, Clara, it's alright. It's just a dream. She's dead, she's dead. Shhh. Now go back to sleep. I'm right here."

_I'm so in love with you,_ she thought, _I'm so in love and it hurts so bad that you will never look at me the way I look at you._

* * *

**_Okay here's the sixth chapter... i brought back the dreams because i thought them interesting and they could help out the rest of the plot..._**

**okay sorry italics was on.**

**WHO"S EXCITED FOR AMERICAN BEAUTY/AMERICAN PSYCHO?**

**MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**

**sorry, i have such a love for fall out boy its not even funny anymore. (it's not) #FOBFEFRENCES**

**okay, please review/follow/favorite because its almost Christmas and i love you guys and it gives me inspiration to write more.**

**xoxo,**

**bleuboxes**

**AN 2: AHH ITS SO FLUFFY AND CUTE AND AHH. anyway, if I missed ay errors please kindly let me know and I'll fix them as soon as I can!**


	7. Chapter 7

She knew something was awry the moment she woke up. It wasn't that John was holding her in his arms rather tight; that was very much okay. She just had that feeling, that premonition that something was going to go terribly wrong, but she just didn't know what.

She wanted to get up so she would be able to look out the window to make sure everything on the street was looking normal (or as normal as New York City could be). She didn't have the heart to wake him, though, and to be perfectly honest she did not ever want to move out of her arms. She nuzzled his arm so she could get her head into a more comfortable position. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling content. He smelled of machine oil and popcorn and however strange it might have been, it was so uniquely him and she loved it.

He shifted and pulled her closer. He began to mutter something and she tried to listen. He kept whispering 'River' over and over again. She tried not to get upset, oh, she really tried, but her jealously and hatred overtook her and she suddenly had the undying urge to cry. She wiggled out of bed and quietly waltzed into her bathroom, making sure she locked the door. She turned on the water for the shower and the fan, trying to create as much noise as possible so he wouldn't be able to hear her crying in the shower when he awoke.

He must have realized that something was wrong after about a half an hour; because she was still in the shower crying and she didn't plan on getting out of there any time soon.

"Clara," he asked her through the door, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," she replied, "I'm fine. Peachy keen."

"I'll take that fairly obvious reaction as a no, you are not indeed fine, and I won't bother you until you want to come out the door and confront me about it."

"No, really, John, I'm fine." She pleaded. He didn't answer, so she guessed that he had walked away from the door. She finished her shower and took her time, hoping that he would lose his patience of waiting for her and exit her flat and go back to his.

She eventually got out of the shower and walked into her bedroom to get dressed slowly, which gave her eyes time to lose their pinkish tint from her crying. She walked herself into the kitchen and cordially ignored John as she made herself a bowl of cereal. She sat across from him at the table and she acted as if he wasn't even there reading the paper.

She finished eating in silence and she stood up to put her dishes into the sink. She went to walk out of the kitchen to go to her bedroom and put on her makeup, but John had stopped her

"Clara, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, John. I am perfectly fine. Stop worrying."

"You're obviously not; you can tell me, Clara. I just want to help you."

"You don't get it, John." She said, "Can't you see? I wear my heart on my sleeve and nobody ever seems to notice, and the people who do tend to push me down just so they can step on it."

"Is this about your dad?" He asked. She was angry. How did he not notice the way she looked at him? Could he not hear the fondness in her voice when she spoke to him? He probably didn't even bother to notice her; his mind was almost absolutely still wrapped around River.

"God damn it!" she cried out in frustration, "Are you always so fucking oblivious?"

"No." he said back dryly.

"Yeah, well, news flash- River Song is a psycho who tried to rewrite you, and she did so successfully, and you still love her? She tried to kill you- and me, for god's sake! How can you love her? Enlighten me."

"So that's what this is about?" he asked.

"Just tell me why you love her so fucking much- I want to understand."

"Clara," he screamed, "I told you- yesterday."

"No, John, you didn't. You said you loved her yesterday- it's not the same. We're supposed to be friends; we're not supposed to keep secrets." She yelled.

"Secrets keep us safe!" he screamed. She had never seen him this angry. It scared her.

"I just… I just wanted to know, why you helped her do this to me." She whispered and tried to bat the tears away, "I just wondered what could have possibly made you love her enough to do this to human beings- and to yourself." She was crying now. The tears had started and nothing could stop them. She turned way, ashamed.

"I did it for all those people walking on the streets- so that they have a chance to go places and see things. I did it because I believed that it was the right thing to do for the advancement of the human race, and so did River." He said; she could tell that he was trying very hard to keep his composure. She didn't try at all to keep her anger and disappointment at bay.

"But they don't want to change, John. They want to be normal and do normal things, like raise families, and going out to get wasted. They want to get fired from a job. They don't want to be space men. I don't want to be a space man. That's what dreams are for, John. And even in their dreams, they want to be Astronauts, human beings with a big white space suit. They don't want this; the people will never want this."

"Clara, you're missing the point-"

"No. I'm not. What about the other heart, John, where do you get that? Just hop along and kidnap some innocent kid and rip out their heart?"

"It's not like that!"

"What do you tell their parents?" she asked.

"Clara!" he shouted, "Listen. The hearts are taken from dying people who had given us permission to take them."

"Which makes it ethical, obviously." She said sarcastically, "I get it; you're trying to justify what you did. The point is nine people died because of what you did, actually, eighteen, you know because of where you go the hearts, and it's all on your hands. They were people, John, and I thought you were a person too. Now please, get out before I have the urge to rip out your throat." She said with her eyes closed so he wouldn't be able to see her tears. He stood there for a minute, looking at her; he was unsure of what to do or of what to say.

"Go, John." She said sternly. He took a deep breath as he turned to exit the kitchen and eventually the flat.

"I'm sorry about our little mishap last night, the kiss-y thing. It was an accident, and I didn't mean it and I'm sure it meant nothing at all to you." he said coldly, and he broke her heart even more that he already had.

* * *

So, after he left, she went into a fit of hysterical screaming and crying. She smashed a couple bowls, put some dents in the wall, and ripped a couple pillows. She didn't hate him, she just couldn't hate him. She tried so hard to hate him, but she categorized her feeling as a lover's rage, except it was just her who was the lover. It was always going to be this way, she realized. His heart still belonged to River Song, and it probably always would. She could see River there, smiling that scary smile that seemed to say, _told you so, sweetie,_ right at her.

She needed to cool off- she needed to get out of this place, and she needed to get away from John for just a little while. She was looking for a place to be alone with her thoughts. She knew just where to go and set off on a journey to the park all by herself.

There was a buzzing of voices as she walked through the park passing by many men, women and children. (She almost got hit by a bicyclist but nobody needed to know that.) It was nice to be surrounded by so many people and to not be noticed by anyone. She was more alone here than in her room and she let her mind wander. She wished her Time Traveler was here; he would know what to do, he always had a plan (though it may have been a stupid one, it usually prevailed.)

She like watching the little children that would play on the swings. They were so happy, so full of that innocence that made everything about everyday life magical. She wished she was still a little girl; but wishes were for children, and she was about as much as an adult as you could get. All her childlike innocence had been lost when her mother died when she was younger, and if any did remain, it was now gone because of what SWF Industries had decided to do to her to benefit the whole human race.

She was tired of being angry with everyone and everything. She didn't like the feeling of hatred; it wasn't fun, but instead it was draining and it made her feel miserable, which is a reason why she flipped her shit at John, and she wouldn't care to admit the other one to anyone but herself. She was jealous, of course she was. She supposed she always had been a bit jealous of the Professor. It was unfair; John loved River Song so much and it made her feel numb inside. River must have been a wonderful person before she turned to SWF she couldn't deny that Professor Song was beautiful, either. She constantly was comparing herself to River, and without realizing it, she was deteriorating her self esteem, and it was all because of a boy, of all things.

She tried so hard to impress him. She was trying to get him to notice her; she longed to be noticed by him. He was so blind; she just wanted attention, there's nothing wrong with that. When he did notice her, it was because she was upset over him, over what he had done- like loving that treacherous River Song or doing the weird ass heart surgery. She had started to assume that he would never notice her because you never notice things when you're not looking for them. She was looking for him, and all he was looking for was a best friend.

She was too busy thinking to even realize that she was crying on the park side bench. And she only did find out that she was indeed crying when a little boy who couldn't have been more than four years old came over to her.

"What's wrong, Miss?" he asked.

"My friends been really quite awful to me," she sniffled out, "and I think that he hates me."

"That's how my sister is to me." He responded quickly and fixated himself on the bench right next to her, "and I thought she hated me because she was always so nasty to me, but when I asked her, she told me it was that she loved me so much it annoyed her. That's why she was mean."

"My friend, I love him a lot, but I don't think he loves me at all. I've said some really rude things to him, you know, so I can't really blame him for hating me, but I wish he wouldn't. I wish he loved me too." She said through tears. Sobs raked through her body and she placed her face with her hands. However, she somehow knew the little boy was confused. (She was too; she didn't understand why she was confiding in a little four year old for advice.)

"Wait, the love as in 'let's make babies' or the 'you're my best friend ever' love?" he asked her innocently. She laughed.

"I think that it's a combination of both."

"Well, why don't you say you're sorry for what you said and then give him a hug and tell him you love him? That's what me and my sister do when we argue and get upset." He said. She wiped her eyes with sweaty hands. Her eyes feet puffy and sore from crying but, relentlessly, she smiled at him.

"Thank you." she said, "You seem pretty smart for such a little boy."

"I'm not little. I'm Rupert and I happen to be a big kid; I'm five years old."

"My mistake, Rupert. I'm Clara." She said. She heard an old woman call out his name, and he turned to look towards the voice, then he made a face and looked back towards her.

"My Gramma's calling me, Clara. It was nice talking to you. I hope you feel better." He said and dashed off before she even got a chance to say goodbye.

* * *

She sat on the park bench for the rest of the afternoon, trying to gather up the bravery to go and do exactly what little Rupert had told her to do. Three hours later, she had finally found the courage and she got up off her butt and made her way back to her flat. But, on her way back, someone had ran into her and knocked her down.

"Oh my goodness!" The man stammered, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying the least bit of attention, you see I was looking for – Clara?" She looked up and saw John's outstretched hand. She took it gladly and felt a pulse of something weird flow through her as he helped her up.

"John?"

"Clara! I could just kiss you right now! I was looking all day for you! Nobody knew where you were." He said, and apparently realized what he had said a second too late.

"Oh, sorry. Just, you know, an expression." He said and rubbed the back of his head and she turned a deep shade of pink.

"Yeah, I know."

"Oh. Well, I came to apologize for the things that I did earlier. I didn't mean to upset you." he said while looking down at his shoes.

"I came to apologize as well. My behavior was inappropriate and childish. I'm sorry." She said, trying to be strong because his words had hurt her so much more they should have. He looked up at her and let out a small smile.

"Well what's the point of being grown up if you can't be childish on a regular occasion?"

"That," she said with a big smile, "is one of the great questions of modern science."

"Sure is." He sighed. She tried to overcome her natural impulse to hug him, but she failed. He stood there confused as her arms wrapped around his upper body and her head rested under his prominent chin. After he understood what was going on, he hugged her back and rested his chin upon her head. She was dying to tell him; she was so close…

"I love you." she whispered, more to herself than to anyone. She didn't mean to say it aloud. She knew he had heard her when he flinched, and she could physically feel her heart breaking. It wasn't fair to her, she had always fallen for the boys that had never loved her the way she had loved them. Rory was a tool bag, and John was just so oblivious to her. They were so different but yet so alike.

"I'm sorry." She said fighting back tears, "Please don't hate me."

"Clara, how could I possibly hate you? I could never hate you, because I know exactly how you feel." He said gently. She was waiting for the harsh and malicious statement to follow, but it never came. Instead he hugged her even tighter and kissed her forehead. "It's impossible for me to hate you, Clara Oswald, because I think I'm falling in love with you."

She smiled and laughed, momentarily letting him out of her grasp so she can look at him properly.

"You better not be lying." She said to him. He looked at her with that _are you shitting me_ face and laughed.

"What do I have to say?" he asked her.

"Not words. Words are lies. If you're in love show me." She said.

"Don't you go quoting Audrey Hepburn on me now." He muttered then kissed her. It was unlike anything that had ever transpired between her and that Rory. John kissed her like there was nobody watching. He kissed her like she was the only thing in his world that mattered. He made her feel wanted; she felt useful again, not as an ordinary human, but as a special one.

They were in the middle of kissing when she heard a strange but familiar sound coming from her left. One second, there was nothing there, but the next, there stood a 1960's police box, and she stopped kissing John and ran over to it. He followed right after her. She stared in shock at it from three feet away. The doors opened with a low creek and two figured emerged.

"Ah," said the man who looked exactly like John, "the middle ages, great time, except for the Bubonic Plague."

"Doctor, this is twenty-first century New York City." Said her look alike.

"Clara," John whispered, "why do those people look exactly like us."

"Because that's us from another dimension." She told him. "DOCTOR!" she shouted. The Doctor turned his head in her direction. He looked at his Clara, than at her, and a childlike grin spread on his face as he grabbed his Clara's had and ran over towards her and John.

"Hello, Clara and… me?" he said, then turned to the woman at his side, "Does my chin really look like that?" she whispered a yes ad he did one of those harrumph sounds and put on a pout.

"Yes, well hello. You must be John." He said, "I've heard a lot about you. And Clara," he said to her, "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Well, Doctor, I happen to live here. Welcome to Parallel New York City!" She said.

* * *

**Okay okay okay, i know. late update. i was busy this weekend preparing for Christmas and didn't have time to write. (To be honest we're still not really ready and tomorrow is Christmas Eve.) **

**so here's an okay chapter and its fluffy and eep and i'm so HYPED ABOUT THE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL WHO'S WITH ME?!**

**okay, well any way. please review and favorite and follow because its Christmas and ily. **

**Xoxo,**

**bleuboxes **

**P.S. MERRY CHRISTMAS (and happy Holidays! ;)**

**AN 2: ahh Whouffle makes me so happy. If you notice any mistakes lease, kindly let me know and i'll fix them asap!**


	8. Chapter 8

"But weren't you in that place, you know?" The Doctor asked her looking thoroughly confused.

"Well, yeah," she said, "but I escaped on a helicopter with help from a robot and got something like open heart surgery on the helicopter because a psychotic professor injected me with some sort of something."

"Yeah. That's pretty much the gist of it." said John.

"But why New York?" he asked, "Of all places why New York?"

"I don't understand what you're trying to say, but something bad is coming, Doctor. It's something so bad that the TARDIS had to pull you here to this Universe to help prevent it." she said. She did not bother to tell him about her dream of the TARDIS. She was not really sure if had happened already or if it was still to happen, remembering how the tenses were all jumbled up.

"You've kept your promise, I see." The Doctor said to her with a happy smile.

"Yeah." She looked down at the ground. John took her hand and squeezed it, "You've just got those old eyes that make it so hard for someone to disappoint." She said to him, embarrassed, "Have you kept up your end of the bargain?"

"Oh, yes." Said Clara with a sly grin, which caused the Doctor to blush, "He's been doing an awful good job at keeping it."

"I'm glad. Well. We don't want to keep you here. Why don't you go take a tour around the city! Oh and I'll give you my address in case you need anything; I'll most likely be there watching tele or something."

She dug around her pocket and found a piece of paper and the Doctor pulled out a pen from his bigger-on-the-inside pocket. She scribbled down her address. She and John bid them farewell and walked back to their flats. John just didn't want to shut up about the Doctor on the way back.

"He's strange." He said.

"Like you aren't. You two aren't so different, you know." She said.

"Yeah. Makes me feel better that you dream of a mad man with a box who happens to look just like me." He said, "Didn't you tell me he was a pretty good kisser?" he finished with a pompous grin on his face.

"Shut up, John." She tried to sound angry, but the light hearted smile couldn't stay hidden. He noticed and kissed her hand. They made it home before the summer sun set behind the man made mountains. She could not sway the feeling that something monumentally bad was going to happen. This day had went from great to awful to wonderful in a matter of hours, and she felt that something was watching, something was waiting for the right moment to strike. She had that feeling that this moment was going to be soon. Because just like everything else in her life, this day followed a strict progression of good to worse. It was just like the day she had lost her mother; it was just like the day she was taken, and she just had that feeling that something awful was going to happen to her or to John when they weren't looking. She was on her guard. She, too, was watching, listening and waiting for whatever was coming.

They entered the building and were greeted by Amy and Rory, who were viciously snogging the faces off each other. There was something that she just did not trust about Rory. He was always so nice to her; Rory looked so plastic, like everything about his life perfect and normal. There was something aloof, but she wasn't ready to send out accusations yet. Amy seemed completely alright; she was just as angry with the world as the rest of the people here. But there was something about her that she couldn't figure out. Amy had seemed hesitant at times when she asked her questions. There was something about her that just wasn't there; there was something missing about who she was.

But, they were her sort-of friends and she would have to trust them; she owed both of them a life debt. She noticed that John seemed weary of them too, but that might just have been because they were kissing rather a lot and he acted like a five year old when it came to that sort of stuff. (There was something about the way that they were kissing that was enough to make anyone uncomfortable, though.) John and her hurried to the elevator.

He still refused to talk about anything else but her time traveling Doctor; he never made fun of him, sure, he teased her about him, but he healed the Doctor up high in a place full of nothing but absolute astonishment and curiosity.

"Well, we sure had a very interesting day." He said.

"Yeah." She said, "You better not have been lying to me."

"Why would I lie about something like that, Clara?" he asked, sounding a tiny bit hurt. She felt bad, but the way that her name rippled off his tongue made her feel much better; it made her feel special.

"I'm sorry; it's just that nobody's really said that to me and meant it. I mean, Rory had told me that, but he never really meant it like I did."

"Rory?" he asked, "As in Amy Pond's husband?"

"No, no, no… This Rory was more muscular and had tattoos and piercings- he was quite the looker, if I do say so myself, but he was a rather large asshole. Funny how that always seems to be the case."

"Well, I meant what I said because you, Clara Oswald, are the only thought my brain can process."

"You're a hopeless romantic, you are."

"Shut up. We were having a moment there." He said and she laughed, "I'm serious. It's so hard for me to not love you." She turned bright red. She was not used to felling this way. She hadn't felt this way in such a long time.

"John, stop you're embarrassing me." She said. He laughed and kissed her head.

"Ah, the things we do. Good night, Clara."

"Good night, John." She said. He bent down and brushed her lips. She smiled and gave him a hug, "See you in the morning, then."

"Okay."

She turned to unlock her door. She opened it and locked it right behind her. She got changed and straightened her flat out a little bit, picking up the shards of broken plates and the stuffing from shredded pillows, which took her all night to complete. She took a shower and collapsed onto her bed and drifted to sleep.

* * *

She was in the TARDIS again, and the crazy woman who said she was the TARDIS was standing right beside her.

"Hello!" she said, "Clara, he's there because your world needs help. Listen, I know it's going to sound crazy, and I'm crazy! What a coincidence! But, River Song isn't really dead. Well, she is, but she isn't. She wasn't the only one. There were ones who thought the same as her."

"Well, I knew that. She worked for some creepy company and she wasn't the one in charge. But how can she be dead and not dead at the same time. That just doesn't make any sense."

"Words, words, words, words. So many nonsensical words- hurtful words, sad words, dead words, happy words."

"I'm just not gonna ask. I don't want to know." She muttered. "So, what do I call you? Cause you have like eight titles and I'm not going to call you sexy, all though you are one beauty of a machine."

"Ooh, I like you." said the TARDIS, "Much nicer than my thief's Clara. Call me TARDIS, or Idris, just not Old Cow. That's mean. Mean, mean, mean, mean, words."

"Okay, so Idris, can I call you that, I have this feeling that people or something is watching me and I'm scared. It's always there; it's always watching me- waiting for the right moment to strike, and I'm scared. God, I don't know what to do!" she cried. She wasn't sure why she was confiding in this mad lady who wasn't really a person but instead a machine with a soul, but she felt that the TARDIS would know what to do.

"Don't go anywhere on your own. If you don't trust someone, listen to your head because it's probably right. They are coming for you and for him. Be warned, Miss Oswald, not everyone is as they seem. Now, Shhh. Sometimes when they think their alone I play tricks on them." Said the TARDIS, who raised a finger and pointed at the Doctor and Clara who were flirting back and forth so much it was hurting her head.

"Do something funny." She said.

"Oh, funny! Yes! Hmmm." A loud beeping started going off and smoke emerged from the console. The Doctor and Clara looked at each other in a state of confusion and something else- excitement. Then, the water magically dispersed from the ceiling, soaking them both. The Doctor looked angrier than anything, while Clara just looked amused.

"Really, dear, are you that jealous?" he asked the machine?

"Doctor, I think she was tired of your awful attempts at flirting." Said Clara.

"That's the thing about her, though," the TARDIS whispered to her, "his Clara is awful smart."

"Shut up, Sexy." Said the Doctor.

"Me sexy, or TARDIS sexy." Asked Clara.

"Both of you just shut up until I shut this damned water off!"

"So what exactly am I helping the Doctor with?" she asked.

"You're helping the Doctor help you and you're helping yourself."

"There are too many helps in that sentence." She said.

"Oh. It's Time for you to go! Hello! Good bye! So long! Farewell!" blurted out the TARDIS, "I do like your company. Do come back soon!"

"Okay… see you later, Alligator."

"I do not understand."

"Just, bye." She said. She felt herself fading.

* * *

She awoke with a jolt to find two people muttering and digging through her flat. She quietly rummaged through her top drawer to find the utility knife that she kept in there just for instances like this. (Though to be realistic, a little pocket knife isn't going to do much damage against people with guns and all the stuff burglars use.) She quietly crept into the kitchen. She still couldn't quite make out what the strangers were saying, but she did know that there was a man and a woman. She was trying to get out of the flat and to John's, so she could get help. She made it to her front door when she heard a voice call out.

"Oh! Good morning, Clara! It's me, the Doctor, you know, just looking for stuff."

"You broke into my flat at eight thirty in the morning."

"Oi, it wasn't my idea." Said the Doctor.

"Yes it was. Don't you dare blame me." Said Clara.

"Okay, okay, it was my idea. We're looking for something, you see, so we- I- thought that it would be okay to check out your flat to see if there was any information here."

"That's breaking and entering. The American's don't exactly tolerate stuff like this." She said.

"No, it's sonicing and entering." Said the Doctor.

"Same difference." Said Clara with a sigh.

"So what the hell are you doing here?" she asked, putting the knife on the nearby table.

"You know, looking for things."

"I don't appreciate you entering my home and not telling me what you're looking for."

"Well, actually we were looking for something that would wake you up." Said the Doctor, "You just wouldn't budge!"

"You have got to be kidding me." She said with annoyance, "you fucking broke into my house just to wake me up?"

"Well, yes, actually. Was the expletive really necessary?"

"Damn it, Doctor. I could be sleeping. Why did you want to wake me?"

"Because I need to make sure you're okay. This isn't going to hurt." The doctor said as he moved closer to her. He put a syringe like thing against her hand, and pulled the trigger. It hurt a lot and she couldn't help but exclaim some choice words. He collected some sort of blood sample, and stuck it in his pocket. He then straightened his bow tie and reached for his sonic.

"I'm just going to scan you. It may feel a bit tingly or it may not."

"It's not going to hurt this time, is it?"

"No." Said Clara, "It doesn't. He did it to me before."

"I know."

"Oh?"

"Sorry, just, you know, assumed…" she said quickly. She didn't want them to know that she and the TARDIS had secretly been stalking them. Although that wasn't as bad as breaking into her home. (Okay, maybe it was)

"Alright, well there's no need for discussion. Shhh." He said. He pointed the Sonic at her and pressed whatever he pressed that got it to make that wonderful but ever so annoying noise. He finished and took a look at the results on it somewhere.

"Well?" she asked.

"Two hearts? How have you got two hearts? That process should have killed you. How?"

"Do I look like I fucking know?" she said, "I'm here, I'm alive, and that's all that matters okay! I think its best that you go."

"Just before I go, who did this?" he asked. She smiled a smile that everything I smile should not be.

"I'll never forget her. She was Professor River Song- and now she's dead." She said. He turned as pail as a ghost, "She did this to me. She's dead and I'm a fucking science experiment. So there you have it." She yelled, "No get the hell out of my sight." She was angry, she didn't know why, but she was. He had no right to ask her those things. They were personal and got her upset when she talked about them with the wrong people.

"I'm sorry," said Clara, "He can be rather insensitive."

"Please," she pleaded, "Just go, just leave me alone."

"I'm so sorry." Said Clara once more before she followed a miserable and somewhat bewildered Doctor out of her flat. They were whispering amongst themselves in a secretive manner, as if they didn't want her to hear. She still heard them; she just didn't care to listen. John must have heard the commotion; he opened the door to find her sobbing against her door frame. He looked down the hallway and saw two figures getting into the elevator.

"John." She whispered. He ran over to her and gave her a hug.

"C'mon, Clara. Let's get you inside."

"John." She said again.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay... Shhh." He reassured her. He led her to her couch, and helped her sit down. He sat down next to her. She buried her face into his chest and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"He's always pushing you to impress him." She choked out, "He makes you think he's so great; he's not. He's just a man beneath that clever smile and bow tie. And men can't help but make others feel important. He's not kind, he's rage and fire and death and pain all wrapped up in a little red bow tie. He looks so innocent, but his eyes betray everything he has ever said. He is Hell- he is wonderful and awful at the same time. And I don't know whether to hate him or to love him." She sobbed. She was tired and sad and angry and a tiny bit heartbroken.

"I think-" he was cut off mid sentence by a middle aged man, who had followed masked men through the door which they kindly knocked down.

"Doctor John Smith and Miss Clara Oswald. We've been looking for you." Two of the other men shared a nod, then they took out their guns and pulled their triggers, firing two darts, both finding home in a separate neck. She screamed John's name as the darkness threatened to overtake her, but it was too much; she couldn't fight it. She was going to sleep again, unsure of what was going to happen when she woke up.

"_Good Night, Clara. You'll see John in the morning. If that is when you wake up." _Said a menacing voice that was harsh like sandpaper. " _Or i__f that's when you choose to get up."_

* * *

**Hey hey hey! So, here's the eighth chapter, it's not my best work, it's not my worst- its the epiphany of 'eh' writing. **

**I would like to give a special shout out to everyone who has reviewed and followed and Favorited- especially theshippingprince, for giving me that push yesterday to sit my butt down and write this. so Kudos to you, my friend. **

**i hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and i'm wishing you all a happy new year!**

**please follow/favorite/review and be sure to check out some of my other whouffle fanfictions. ****love you guys lots.**

**Xoxo**

**bleuboxes**

**AN 2: hey hey hey the plot thickens mwah hahaha. If you notice any errors, kindly let me know and i'll fix them as soon as I can!**


	9. Chapter 9

She jolted awake with a sharp intake of breath. It was neither hot nor red in this room, but she knew that she had arrived in hell once again. She slowly scooched back against the dull cold grey wall. Then she remembered that whoever had taken her had also taken John. She searched the room with her eyes for John, but she didn't see him. She began to shake uncontrollably due to worry. She crawled around the room, feeling for him because she didn't trust her eyes.

"John!" She cried, scared that he had lied to her once more, "John!_ JOHN_!" She collapsed onto the floor, thinking the worst had happened to him. She felt so weak; she did not want them to see her while she felt so vulnerable. She didn't want them to have anything to use against her.

She knew this time that nobody was going to help her escape. U.N.I.T .must have been corrupted; she didn't want to put her life in the hands of anyone else, except for maybe John (if he didn't trick her again). But for all she knew he could have been dead. She had to get out of this place, whether it be by escaping or by death, because at least in death she would be free of this nightmare.

Soon after, that middle aged man came into her room (Which was more of a prison cell) and told her to follow him. She did not listen to him; she stayed seated in her corner. He walked over to her and let out a frustrated sigh and dragged her out of the room. She didn't make it easy for him- she went out kicking and screaming. (the man certainly didn't look too pleased.)

He forced her to sit down in a squishy office chair in what must have been is main headquarters. There was an extravagant cherry wood desk with a futuristic computer sitting upon it. There were no pictures of his family or friends; only framed scientific accomplishments of his were present.

"Tea, Miss Oswald?" he asked her with forced politeness.

"No." She responded. He didn't listen to her and poured her some anyway.

"Sugar?" He asked her.

"What the hell! Just get on with it already. You didn't bring me here to be polite to me." She shouted.

"If you insist, Miss Oswald. We're going to perform a series of tests on you."

"You're not going to do anything to me." She responded.

"You see, Miss Oswald, that's where you're wrong. We have something very precious to you, and if you aren't going to do as you're told, something bad might just happen to him."

"Leave John alone; he hasn't anything to do with this." She said, though she knew that wasn't true but, it was worth a try.

"On the contrary, my dear, Doctor Smith has as much to do with this as you." He said as he stepped out of his chair and walked towards her. He sauntered around her, examining her as if she were some type of animal, "Very good. Remarkable, really; he wasn't lying."

"Who wasn't lying?" she asked.

"No one that concerns you." He said. He grabbed her hair and yanked it; it didn't hurt but it jerked her head and that was mildly uncomfortable. "He was right when he said you could change the world."

"Who is this person you keep referring to? Is it Professor Song? If you're confused; she was a woman in case you didn't notice." She said. He let out a chuckle void of any emotion.

"Ah, River Song, what a dreadful woman. My, my, Miss Oswald, there is so much you don't know. All in moderation."

"Why are you doing this to me? That's what I don't understand."

"We, SWF industries, have been watching you for a long time, Miss Oswald. You are very special."

"But that's where you're wrong," she said a little bit fearful, "I'm ordinary – the most ordinary person ever. I'm a teacher and I just want to go home. Take me back home to my father." He laughed and gave her a cold smile.

"Well, dear, have you got a lot to learn. You really shouldn't doubt yourself so much. There's something unique about the way your body works for the change to have taken place in you."

"Professor Song said it was my blood."

"That's much too primitive. It can't just be your blood! That'd be silly!" he said, "It's your whole existence that's spectacular. Like I said before, Miss Oswald, you are special; we've known that since you were a little girl" said he. This man, who sounded so utterly polite, was genuinely frightening her. She had that gut feeling that he wasn't lying about stalking her- who would lie about that? But, that was not the point, if he did stalk her like he claimed he did, he knew all about her – he studied her; maybe her entire life had been an experiment. Maybe she was like that rat just trying to get through the maze.

"What do you even want me here for? Why am I here? Who are you?" she said, and before he could say something she continued, "Don't give me that bullshit answer of _because you're special, _because, frankly, I'm not special. I'm Clara and really don't want to be here right now." He gave her a curious expression and let out a sigh.

"I am the highly esteemed Doctor Walter Simeon, author of the book _The Great Intelligence. _We're not going to send you to the moon. That's just a stupid cover story; only I and another person know the real reason. River Song was a ding bat – she didn't know anything, she was just… there, existing." He said, "You, Clara Oswald, are the future of the human race."

"The human race doesn't want this – they want their normal little lives with their pointless little jobs and they don't want to live like this; they don't want a life like mine! I don't want this! I want one heart; I want my job; I want someone who will fall in love with a school teacher from Blackpool. I want to grow old and watch my perfectly normal children grow up. I want all the problems in-between. I want to die with my husband holding my hands and whispering endearments in my ear. I don't want this; Nobody will ever want this!" she screamed. He laughed at her; it was cold and dry. He rushed forward, powered by rage, and gripped her jaw tight with his white gloved hand.

"It doesn't matter what you want, Miss Oswald, because _nobody is going to listen to you!_ You are to do as I say, because you don't, your little friend, John, gets a fun session with my persuasive friend, Dr. Alek." He said, "Don't you see, Miss Oswald, if you want me to be the bad guy, I'll be the bad guy. It's as easy as throwing you in a jail cell where you can watch John suffer for your choices and actions. Or, you could help me; I'll give you a nice room for both you and John; you can start breeding hybrid humans, and people would respect you. Don't you want that! Don't you want John to be safe?" he concluded as if he had the upper hand.

She didn't want to do either of his suggestions (demands). She wanted to go home and sit on her couch and watch TV crying over her favorite characters. She wanted to complain about how bad her class was that day. She loved John, though, and she didn't want anything bad to ever happen to him. She had to get out of here, and the best way to formulate a plan at this point was to do what this mad, mad man told her to do.

"I'll listen. I won't put up a fuss. Just let me see him; let me make sure he's okay." She pleaded and he smiled an amused smile.

"I'm sure your will, dear. You will be able to see him after we're done." She wanted to scream and demand that he showed her the way to John, but she knew that he would only restrain her and punish John, so she remained silent.

"Please follow me, Miss Oswald. Through this door, please. Then we can get started on the experiments – did I say that? Darling, I'm sorry, I meant to say tests. You know, same difference."

She felt sick to her stomach. He was going to do something even more unpleasant to her and frankly, she didn't know what she did to deserve this kind of life. She didn't want to live like this.

"Are you going to make me a hero?" she asked like a little girl. She was still unsure of what she had signed up to do to protect John. In the room she had followed him into, she sat down in the chair in the middle and he strapped her down. He walked over to close the door, then put on his lab coat, mask, and latex gloves.

"Well, yes. In a way." He said slowly, as if he were carefully formulating his words to come up with an answer that she would like, "Some will want to be you and others will want to kill you. Now hush."

He hooked her up to some sort of machine that would monitor her. He then proceeded to the other side of the room where he started putting something in a syringe. He let out a content sigh and walked back over to where she was stripe into the chair. He cleaned off a spot on her upper arm with rubbing alcohol then put the needle into her arm. He slowly pushed the bright orange liquid into her body.

At first, she felt normal and began to think that she shouldn't have been so nervous about this. She sat there for then minutes. She watched him scribble things down on his quite professional looking clipboard while she sat there thinking about what life would have been like for her if she had met John under normal circumstances. She had never gotten to finish that thought though, because suddenly, her monitor started beeping loud and fast and she felt a surge of adrenaline. Her eyesight went almost completely dark, but came back but everything was in an orange-ish hue. She felt waves of hatred and rage well up inside her.

Dr. Simeon kept writing things down and uttered encouragements to her. She wasn't listening – all she wanted to do was kill him; she wanted to kill everybody; especially this John fellow because he had hurt her the most. The only little bit left of her sanity was telling her that John loved her and that she loved him. She didn't want to kill him. She started to calm down and realized that something terrible had just happened with in her; she was going to become a monster.

"Good job, Miss Oswald. That was an excellent first session. We'll have to work on it more tomorrow." He said. She was shaking with fear; she was scared of what she was becoming – she was scared of what he was going to do to her. He was turning her into a monster. She loved John, but she began to question if she should have put his life above her own.

* * *

"All right, dear, please follow me." Doctor Simeon said. He lead her out the door and though his office, and down a small hallway which was filled with many of his medical accomplishments. He must have been highly regarded in the scientific community. They made their way to an elevator and when the doors closed behind them he hit the button that would take them up two stories to the twenty-second floor. As they went up, she was greeted by an eerie silence that made her feel rather uncomfortable.

The elevator reached the twenty-second floor and the doors opened with a ding of a bell. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her through a corridor that lead her to a door that looked like an entry to a lab. He opened the door and she was greeted with a security feed of John. He was in a room and was just sitting there.

"John!" she screamed at the screen, "Let me see him! _Let me see him!_"

"There will be plenty of time for that. Come." He said. She followed him and led her to a door which he opened. He told her to go in a beige-pink room. One wall was made of glass. She hesitated to enter, so he violently pushed her in and slammed the door. She looked around. The floor was soft and so were the walls, except for the glass one. She stumbled over t it and looked through, only to see john who was sitting down in the center as she had seen before with his back facing her.

"_John!_" she screamed against the glass, but he did not seem to have heard her. She started banging on the window and only then did he seem to notice.

"Clara!" he shouted back as he scrambled over to the window, "Oh my god, Clara, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay? They haven't done anything to you, have they?" she responded, pressing her had against the glass. He brought where her his up to where her palm should have been touching his. And though they weren't touching, she could still a faint blush creep up to her face.

"We have to get out of here," she said to him, "We need to get out of here soon, before they do something else."

"Who's they? Do you know where we are?" He questioned.

"I don't know where we are, as in geographic location," She said, "But we're in a high rise building which SWF Industries owns and their going to preform, 'tests' on me."

"They haven't tested me," he said, "That's strange." She started thinking about how her deal with the devil may just keep him safe.

"Who knows, maybe you have a default or something." She lied.

"Don't joke about that, Cara." He said gravely.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I just have that feeling that I'm not going to get out of this alive."

"You're a fighter, Clara; you'll make it. Just stay strong." After a few minutes, John scooted himself into the corner, where the glass and wall meet, and he closed his eyes. He fell asleep as she listened to his soft snores, and for some reason, she wished that the snores were his screams. She wished that she was slowly draining the life out of him because he should be hurting too; it shouldn't just be her.

She tried to make herself snap out of it. Some part of her mind knew that those thoughts weren't hers. Maybe, if she was thinking of River Song, she wouldn't be so concerned. That man, Doctor Simeon, if he even deserved to be called a man, was making her a hero for the destruction of humanity. It was like he was planning on brainwashing her to use hatred and violence as an irrational answer to everything that stood in her way. She crawled as far away John as possible and silently cried out of the world of nightmares and into the unknown realm of dreams.

* * *

She was greeted by the TARDIS in the control room; she wasn't her usual cheery self, which left her feeling a little concerned for the machines wellbeing.

"Clara, Clara, Clara, I'm so very sorry for you." Said the TARDIS.

"I am to." She said, "I wish I wasn't alive right now. I'm losing the last ounce of what I have left of my humanity to this god-awful Doctor Simeon."

"Doctor Simeon, eh? I'll have to tell the Doctor; he's looking into SWF too. That's where you were taken, right?"

"Can you help him find me? Oh my stars, can he get me out?" She asked; she was thrilled, maybe she would get out of that hell before she got turned into a murderous creature. The TARDIS went into some long science-y explanation about how she could relay the information to the Doctor. She didn't understand anything she said except for 'I'm going to make funky noises and blow up a few things'.

"What do you know about where you're being held?" The TARDIS asked her.

"The building I'm sleeping in right now is a high-rise, I'm not really sure where, but John and I are on the twenty-second floor. So, Doctor Simeon's office is on the twentieth floor."

"Alrighty!" Said the TARDIS who had just started doing the Macarena for some odd reason. (She didn't even question it anymore.)

"Any more serious questions before I start doing that dance with you?" she asked.

"Yes, actually," said the TARDIS who had stopped dancing in the middle of putting her hands on her hips, "What color was the serum that he injected into your puny human arm?"

"How would you know about – never mind, it's all timey-wimey isn't it?" she asked.

"Pretty much."

"You knowing that doesn't really even surprise me, but the serum was a really bright shade of orange. Sort of like the color of orange hair dye."

"Interesting…. What happened after it was in your system?" announced the TARDIS.

"Nothing happened for a good ten minutes, actually. Then all of a sudden I was really angry and hateful and I wanted to kill everything and everyone. Oh – and something weird happened with my eyes, not really sure what though, because you know, I can't really see them unless they're cut out of my face."

"You still wouldn't be able to see them because then you wouldn't have eyes." Supplied the TARDIS.

"Your insight, though helpful, is not appreciated." She said.

"What else happened? I sense that you're not telling me something."

"I was getting to that." She huffed, "About an hour later, John was sleeping and started snoring and I wanted nothing more in the world than to slowly take the life out of him."

"That sounds terrifying." Said the TARDIS, "almost as terrifying as being ripped to pieces by an Ice Warrior."

"As much as I know you're trying to cheer me up, it's not helping. Let's just do the Macarena again."

"Clara, something devastating is going to happen to you in a short while, or a long while, not really sure. But, it's going to hurt you more than any physical affliction. You need to be brave; you are strong, Clara Oswald, you need to fight it. You need to remember what the people that you trust mean to you. You need to confront all the hate and anger and fury and put it into something that can be used for good. Don't give in; you are special, more special than any human my Thief has ever taken." Said the TARDIS, who began to float off topic, "Well, I suppose they stole themselves, following my ridiculous mad man all over the Universe."

"You're no fun when you're serious."

"Yeah, well people aren't fun when their dead."

"How would you know?"

"I suppose I don't. I'm not even a real person. Humph, that was a bit racist, Clara."

"How was it racist?"

"I don't know. I just felt like saying that."

"I'm just going to go Macarena in that corner now."

"Ooo! Let me come to. Oh wait, no you're not. It's time for you to wake up now. Geronimo, Clara!"

"No! Don't make me go! I don't want to go!" she cried.

"Well, that's no fun. You got to go back to reality eventually."

"This is real."

"In one relative time it is. Right now it's all happening in your head.

"So it isn't real?"

"No silly, just because it's happening inside your head doesn't mean it's not real."

"You are not Albus Dumbledore; shut your pie hole.

"Dean Winchester likes pie." Said the TARDIS and Clara's eyes lit up.

"You watch Supernatural too?" she asked with energy.

"No. But your mind is leaking a bunch of thoughts about it. Clara, you have very, very naughty thoughts about this 'Destiel' person." Said the TARDIS. Clara's cheeks blazed scarlet.

"You would too." She muttered.

"You're fading fast."

"What?"

"You are going now. I'm forcing you."

"No, you just made a Fall out Boy reference."

"I suppose that came out of your thoughts too. Some good stuff in there."

"That's an invasion of privacy."

"Then wake up."

"Fine.

"Toodaloo!" shouted the TARDIS as she waved goodbye with a goofy grin.

"Yeah, whatever."

* * *

She woke up and was greeted by Doctor Simeon's smiling face.

"Good Morning, Miss Oswald."

"I'm coming; just let me wake up."

"Whenever you're ready."

He led her back to the same room as yesterday. He strapped her into the chair and hooked her up to the monitor. This time, however, when he injected her, he gave her an apple to hold in her hand. The same thing as yesterday happened; she waited for ten minutes and then the negative emotions kicked in, though today, they were much more prevalent and she got so angry with the apple that she squished it when she clenched her hand. (It was very satisfactory and she wanted to do it with something that was living now.) She tried to unstrap herself from the chair so she could get to him. She felt strong; the anger gave her power and she loved it. But still, that little voice of reason talked her out of it and she calmed down slowly. Doctor Simeon was pleased with her rapid 'progress'.

He sent her back to her containment cell where she saw John, but she cordially ignored him. She didn't want to be near him in fear that she would become enraged and smash the glass so she could go over and kill hm.

"Clara, are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"No, John. Everything is just _fantastic_." She snapped.

"I miss you." He admitted, "You can tell me, if you want, whatever it is that is bothering you. I understand if you don't want to tell me, though. God, Clara, I am so sorry; this is all my fault." She didn't say anything back but she felt a solitary tear rush down her face. Her sanity was in shambles. Her reality wasn't much different than the events in her worst nightmares.

_I'm not okay. I can't tell you, because you'll do something rash and it might kill you, which would kill me. I miss you too; I miss myself. I just want to be dead right now. I am not o-fucking-kay._

* * *

**Hello my lovely readers! I'm sorry this is a week later, and I'm sorry about the cliff hanger in the last chapter (just kidding. I'm not.) I was really busy over Christmas Holiday and I really just didn't have the inspiration to write for this. you know how it goes- writers block yuck. But this week, I came up with this.**

**okay. I know this is getting really confusing, bit I decided to change what was going to happen. so that means confusing plot lines and a bunch of other really confusing shit. I'm still not sure where this is going, but I have a general idea that will most defiantly involve you screaming at me. **

**just so you know in advance. **

**I have Midterms in a week, so I might not update this next weekend, it'll probably be another two weeks, I know, I'm sorry. but I need to do well n the exams. I'll definitely be writing; it's just the typing down what I have written down in my notebook that takes the longest. **

**Again, I cant thank you guys enough for all the support that you have given me to write this. it makes me so happy to know that so many people are enjoying my writing, despite all the mistakes in grammar and proofreading (bc I suck ass at all those things.**

**And if you like this story, feel free to check out my other Doctor Who ones!**

**Please review and follow and favorite. (bc motivation and I might make the chapter a little better, who knows. inspiration is always key.)**

**Xoxo,**

**bleuboxes **

**AN 2: IM ALMOST DONE WITH PROOF READING YAY Also, I probably missed some errors so, if you would kindly let me know if you notice one, I'll fix it when ever I get a chance.**


	10. Chapter 10

_I choose defeat  
I walk away  
And leave this place  
The same today  
Some like to sleep  
We like to play  
Just look at all that pain_

_"Fake Your Death", My Chemical Romance_

* * *

After a week of tests and nasty tasting oatmeal, she had officially declared herself mentally unstable. She wasn't sure if she wanted to kill John or not. He always seemed to be worried about her, which she found sweet, but he was never hurting; he was never in pain. She believed that he needed something that would make him hurt, both physically and mentally, as she was.

She didn't ever seem to notice the little things anymore. She didn't see the once youthful, loving eyes that he once had as he looked at her. She didn't notice how they were now sad and pained. She never took a second glance at his tear-stained face, and she didn't hear his heart shatter like broken glass when he looked at her and she looked back with nothing but curiosity.

She found it a bit strange that John was the only thought that could break her from her trances of inhumanity, and for that little piece of mental stability, she as grateful, and for that little piece of mental stability, she as grateful. She just didn't understand why he wasn't hurting when she was in such great pain. She didn't realize that Dr. Simeon was laughing at her oblivious nature; it was so obvious that he was using her to break John like a tree branch.

"You're almost done with your tests in the Lab." Said Dr. Simeon, "Soon we'll put you in the simulations. Then, you'll be able to go out and save the human race."

"When do I start simulations?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," he stated, "Tomorrow we will see what my little weapon of mass destruction can do. Who knows, maybe that gentleman fellow of yours will come and watch."

"I thought you said I was going to be a hero." She said blankly.

"You are _my hero, _Clara Oswald, and that is all that matters. Well, you're my boss's hero, too; he's so excited to see you."

However, in her state of moderate insanity, she knew that this felt wrong. She didn't want to be a killing machine; she was scared of herself and the monster that she was becoming. He turned her humanity against her. Inhumanity is harmful, now more than ever. She was death and rage wrapped into a twenty four year old body that was just a little too short to be taken seriously. She didn't want this.

He only thing she wanted was her Time Traveler's TARDIS, which (who) was surprisingly good company for a mad woman (machine). The TARDIS and her she had really gotten to bond with each other in the last week. The Doctor, her Time traveling lunatic, was coming to save her (if she wasn't dead by the time he came). They promised her, well, actually the TARDIS promised her, but her word was as good as the Doctor's.

Dr. Simeon placed her in her chair and injected the excessively orange serum into her arm. The effects hit her almost instantly. She broke out of her hand clasps. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to see his lifeless body sprawled on the floor. And she wanted to laugh at him, because he was on old fool; she didn't belong to anybody – she belonged to herself and he stood in her way. He did this to her and he would pay for every second of it.

She hated him. She stood up and tried to sneak up on him so she could strangle him. She didn't care that she was watching her every move. She wanted this. She wanted to kill him. She was reflecting the coldness in his eyes, but the fires of hatred sent directly from hell, warmed her. She wasn't his tool; she was her own self - a weapon that didn't really want to be.

Her conscience was screaming no, but her head would not listen. She wasn't scared of playing God. She was scared of the outcome of her actions. This man was in her way and she needed to exterminate him.

"Good job, Miss Oswald," he said, "come a little closer and put your hands around my neck and snap it. You're so close; just a bit closer."

"Shut up, old man," she spat in a voice that wasn't her own – it was deeper and colder and it scared her. This wasn't her, she wasn't a cold blooded killer.

"No." she said to herself.

"No?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I will not end your life." She stated. Her vision went black and she hear a scream as she hit the ground with a thud.

* * *

"You need to follow through!" screamed a man in the darkness.

"I can't help that she has a heavy conscience." Said a voice that was seemingly familiar to Walter Simeon's.

"Give her more," said the man, "I don't give a damn if it kills her or if she stays mad forever. She needs to be ready."

"But, sir," Doctor Simeon protested, "She isn't supposed to be ready until- "

"Someone's looking into us. We don't have time to wait for her to be ripe. She needs to be done now."

"Okay, sir."

"And, Simeon."

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't fuck up again."

She heard the unidentified man leave the room and she decided that it would be a good time to open her eyes.

"Miss Oswald, you failed the simulation. _Again._ Don't you want to pass? Don't you want to be a hero?"

"As much as I despise you, I cannot kill you."

"You need to pass the simulation." He said firmly.

"_I DON'T CARE_!" she shouted, "I don't want to be a hero."

"Then be humanity's saint." He said as if he were trying to persuade her. Instead, she only become more upset.

"I'll be damned." She said, "Just kill me; I want nothing more than death." She stated. He looked at her and she saw something that looked like pity in his eyes for a brief moment, but she put it off, telling herself that her eyes were tricking her.

"I'm afraid I cannot kill you, Miss Oswald, and I can't kill Doctor John Smith either. But if you do one more Simulation, then I might consider it." He didn't give her time to answer. By the time she started to open her mouth to formulate a response, he was already hooking her back up to the simulation machine.

"Sweet dreams, Miss Oswald." He laughed. He injected her with the serum, more than ever before. He then kissed her forehead in spite when the room went into darkness.

* * *

She was in her cell watching John sleep. She was crying and she was trying to calm herself down, but she couldn't. She was in a permanent state of 'Freak-out' and she wasn't quite sure why.

Then, out of the blue, the glass walls opened; they parted at the middle like sliding glass doors. It was a quiet loudness, but it was loud enough to wake John up. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to comprehend what was going on around him. He looked at the now moving wall in disbelief, then scurried over towards her. She met him in the middle of the room. He couldn't stop stroking and kissing her face.

"Clara, oh, my Clara." He cried, "Clara, I missed you so much." She smiled and pulled him closer into a tight hug.

"John," she said because she hadn't seen him respond to his name in a while, "Did they hurt you? Are you alright?"

"No, they've just been letting me sit here. They torture me with you, Clara; you're always so close to me but I can never," he paused and pulled her chin up gently so she was looking directly at him, "touch you." Then he kissed her. She never expected John to kiss like that; it was deep and almost hungry. It just seemed so very un-John like. John as gentle. He wasn't _right _and that made her angry.

She willed herself not to be, for both of their sakes_, _but she couldn't stop herself. Her vision into that unusual orange hue and the anger and hate swelled. She hated him; she hated the way his soft plump lips moved perfectly against her chapped ones. She hated the way his soft hands as they cupped face ad ran through her hair. She hated how perfect he was; he was too perfect to live. He shouldn't be able to be on the same planet has she was.

She decided to play him. So, she kissed him back with such a ferocity that he jumped. Her hands went strategically around his neck, at first carefully caressing it. When she just let her hands sit there, he seemed to notice that something was wrong and began to pull away. She help him close, but pulled her lips of his. She needed to tell him before she did it. He needed to know.

"I'm going to kill you." She said without care.

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

"All these weeks, all these days, they've been torturing me and it hurts, John. It fucking hurts. And here you are just sitting here doing nothing. It's not fair. You deserve to be hurting, too. You're the one that started this; _you did this to me_!"

"Clara, I love you!" he shouted. Her hands stayed wrapped snuggly around his neck.

"If you ever loved me, then you would let me go. Bye, bye, John."

"Clara! You love me! Remember the park and the swings and the flower field we drew - " She cut him off mid-sentence with a snap of his neck. She wanted to feel satisfied, but something made her feel empty, like she just lost a piece of her heart.

She waited for somebody to dispose of his body; she didn't want to look at such a pitiful thing. About half an hour later, someone did come. She looked familiar. Her name tag read 'Idris' and she recognized her as the TARDIS. What she was doing here, she wasn't sure.

"No, no, NO! Clara, what have you done?" Idris wailed.

"I killed him. He wasn't hurting. He needed to hurt."

"This is a simulated test; a dreamlike state, except it's not. John was here too, and if you die in this dream, you die for real too, Clara, you killed him."

"Yeah, so? He was annoying."

"You loved him, you know." Said the TARDIS, who for the first time in her entire existence, was actually talking sense. (Though she didn't really know it), "You had so many nasty thoughts about him and you without clothes."

"I feel good about myself; I'm happy he's not here."

"But you're not, are you? You gave him your heart and he took it willingly. Then you killed him, so technically you killed yourself without even killing yourself in a dream that isn't really a dream."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's time to wake up, Clara. The Doctor will be too late to save John, but he might be able to save you. Just don't do any other stupid things." Said the TARDIS, who materialized with John's body, leaving her all alone. She sat down, perfectly content with herself as the blackness over took her sight. And for the first time she welcomed it.

* * *

"Good job, Miss Oswald! You did it!" Praised Doctor Simeon, "The boss will want to congratulate you in person. Come now." He said. She felt a sense of pride and dread as he undid her clasps. She felt as if she had lost something very dear to her, but she wasn't sure what.

"Am I hero yet?" she asked as they approached a fancy green door with a shiny gold knob.

"You will never be a hero to the other side, Miss Oswald. To them you will be the greatest enemy there ever was, but to me and the man inside that door, you are our hero."

"Will John think I'm a hero?"

"I'm afraid John won't be thinking about much anymore, seeing as you killed him."

"I- I killed him?" she asked, in a state of disbelief; she loved John.

"Yes."

"Why? What did you do to me to make me kill him?"

"Nothing, Miss Oswald. It was all you're doing."

"I want to die. Kill me. _Please, just kill me."_

"I'm afraid, Clara, I cannot do that." Said the man who emerged from the elegant green door.

"Daddy?" She questioned, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Please come in. Simeon, you can go. I would like to have a little chat with my daughter."

She walked into the room and her father slammed the door in the other man's face. The room was beautiful, too beautiful. It was as if Aphrodite puked all over the chairs and furnishings. Her father had her sit down on the loveseat and he sat down on his own leather recliner.

"How has you're stay been?" he asked her.

"You run this company? She asked him.

"Yes."

"You did this to me? This was your idea?" she shouted.

"Yes."

"Did Mom know; did you tell her that you owned a fucking psychotic business?"

"Yes."

"Did she try to stop it? I'm assuming that she knew you were going to use me for something."

"She did try to stop me; I had to kill her."

"You killed her? You_ killed your own wife? YOU KILLED MY MOTHER?"_ She screamed, "Did you even love her or was she some woman that you could breed with to create a human to test on?"

"I loved her, Clara, I loved her so much, but I did it for you; I needed to make sure that you developed correctly."

"_Don't you dare speak to me about love. Don't you _fucking _dare._"

"What do you know? You're just a messed up girl, a mere child." He scoffed.

"I love her, and you took her away from me. And that orange shit that you put into me, it made me kill John. I loved him, Dad. I loved him so _fucking _much. I thought you would have liked him. And I loved you too, I thought about you every day, you know. I missed you so much; I thought you'd be searching all over god's creation for me, but, no! _YOU'RE THE SON OF A BITCH THAT DID THIS GOD AWFUL THING TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE_!"

"I suppose John was a good fellow," he said, "he was a bit of a lunatic, though."

"Why," she sobbed, "Why did you do this to me? To John? I don't understand."

"Because the human race can be so much more. And because I love you and I want people to remember how extraordinary you are."

"I don't want to be extraordinary," she cried out, "I want to be Clara Oswald. I wanted to get married, I wanted to have normal children and a house in the country. I wanted to pay my taxes and have Christmas Dinner with my family and I wanted to grow old with John by my side. It's too late for that because you made me kill him."

"My dear, I didn't make you do anything."

"You did this to me! You made me this… this monster!" she screamed, "To your _own daughter_! How could you?"

"Sacrifices had to be made."

"Is that what I am to you, Dad? A sacrifice?"

"No. You're my baby girl, Clara, and I love you."

"Well, you can go fuck your love for me inside out and backwards because I hate you. I want you to die and I want you to hurt. I want you to suffer just as I have."

"But, Clara, I am your father!"

"Before I talk myself out of killing you quickly, why the two hearts?"

"There were legends," he said, "of an ancient people that traveled the cosmos and landed here. These ancient people created us in their image, using us as companions. They fashioned us with one heart, so we wouldn't have the capacity to feel what they felt."

"It's a legend!" she sobbed, "Legends aren't true!"

"I founded this company with one of these people, She called herself the Mistress and I followed her instructions to a T, and here you are; you're not a human, Clara. You're a Time Lady."

"Why did you put that orange crap in me?"

"It was liquid energy. It channels your most prevalent feelings and coverts them so you can regenerate, at least that's what Missy said anyway."

"_Missy_? So you have pet names now!"

"That matters not, you are my wonderful creation, my beautiful Time Lady."

"I am Clara Oswald. I am Human and that is all I will ever be." She got off the couch and strolled over to where her father as seated. He looked at her with panic in his eyes, but it was still there; he still looked at her with a sense of pride and she wanted to kill him.

"I am not some trophy on your wall. I am a girl; a human girl. I am not yours, I am not anybody's. I belong to myself." she said, "I am going to kill you and I don't care. I want you to die knowing that you ruined my life and that I hate you. I hate every single fucking fiber of your being. I will never be sorry for doing this, because it wasn't ever really about me, was it? It was always about you."

* * *

She walked out of the room, to see an anxious looking Doctor Simeon waiting right outside. She put on a smile and walked up to him.

"Take me to the lab." She demanded, "If you refuse I will snap your neck in a heartbeat, and you'll be just like my father."

"You killed him? "He asked with an ounce of fear mixed into his voice.

"Yes, and I really don't feel like killing anyone else today, so please just show me to the lab."

"Right this way, Miss Oswald." He lead her through the hallway and back towards the room which she had killed John without really knowing in.

"Mix me up something toxic." She said. He looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face, the got cooking.

"You know, Walter, as much as an inconsiderate ass you are, I kind of like you."

"Why is that?"

"Because you don't let it show."

"Don't let what show, Miss?" he asked.

"Exactly. Emotions. You don't ever act like you have any. And I envy that, probably the only thing about you that I envy."

"That's because I don't have any, Miss Oswald. I have an emotion inhibitor. It was put in by your father."

"But how did you look at me with pity, and act scared earlier?"

"I am an old man, Miss Oswald. He didn't give me a new model. It was broken. I can feel some things."

"Ah, so you're not a total sociopath, then."

"Not completely." He cracked a smile. He handed her a weird looking purple concoction.

"This will kill you with a single sip, even with regeneration."

"Thank you, Doctor Simeon. I will remember you're kindness."

"Thank you, Miss Oswald."

"Clara."

"Clara?"

"Yes. In your last moments, I want you to die knowing that I was your friend." She grabbed a scalpel off the counter and buried it into his chest.

* * *

She looked for the elevator, which she found after about half an hour of wandering, and went to the top floor. She looked for a doorway leading to a set of stairs that would lead her to the roof of the building. She found one on the other side of the hall way, and walked up them. She opened the door and was blinded by the intense sunlight.

She walked over to the edge and looked down. She was still in New York. She was still in the same building. She couldn't help but let out a laugh. Of course, nobody would ever come to rescue her from a place like that. It was so simple and complex that it made her head hurt.

She missed John. He was her only friend; the man that she loved so very much and she had killed him without a second's hesitation. She wanted to cry. She didn't know what she did to deserve a life such as the one that she was living. She wanted to cry in John's arms, but he wasn't there. He would never be here again and it was her fault. The guilt and sadness hit her like a pile of bricks.

She collapsed on the roof in a fit of wretched sobs. She was a monster. She was made to destroy the world, but what good would that do. She didn't want to kill all the ordinary people with their ordinary lives and their ordinary children. She liked the world as it was.

It was her against the world, a battle she was unwilling to fight, so she went to war with herself. She calmed herself down enough to sit up and look at the purple poison in her hand. She wanted to do it, she wanted to die so bad, but she couldn't. She was a coward. She walked over to the edge of the building, and looked down, once again. Did she want to jump? Would the impact kill her?

Then she heard the sound. To the majority of the Population, it meant hope, but it was the sound of hopelessness for her. The TARDIS materialize beside her and out came the Doctor and Clara, carefully. They treated her as if she were a delicate piece of fine china.

"You can't talk me out of it." She said to them as she glanced at the bottomless alley and the purple liquid.

"Please, Clara," he said, "Just think about it."

"I did, Doctor. I did. I won't be able to stop killing people. He gave me too much."

"But you can stay with me, in the TARDIS, she'll protect you."

"You know that's not possible."

"I know."

"Do you have John's body?"

"Yes, actually. It just materialized. We tried to save him, Clara, we did."

"Let me see him."

"Come in; I'll show you."

"How stupid do you think I am? You'll just lock me in there." She said, but the remembered that she had the poison, and death by poison would probably be a lot less scary than jumping off a building. She put the bottle into her pocket. "Okay, I'll follow you. Promise me you won't lock me in."

"I promise." He said. She followed him as e guided her into the beautiful blue machine. He raced to the console to lock the doors, just as she knew he would.

"He's in my bedroom." Said Clara, "I'm so sorry. I know it sounds cliché, but I am. I'm sorry that you had to go through all of this."

"Thank you." She said. She followed her into the bedroom that she had spent many nights in. she had found John, lying there, with his eyes closed and he had a tranquil smile on his face. She rushed over to him and put her head against his chest and cried.

She hated herself. She knew it was her fault, but she didn't want to face the awful truth that she did it. It was hard losing someone you love. Maybe she was like the servant girl in the story he had told her. She made her decision. She was scared but John would be there; she would be okay. Everything would be okay.

She too the purple poison out from her pocket and unscrewed the lid, tossing it on the ground. She took a smell of the poisonous liquid and it smelled sweet. It smelled of the moments that she had stolen from John and herself and it made her sick.

"A toast," she proposed to herself, as she sat upright and took John's stone cold hand in her own sweaty one, "To loves lost and wonderful friendships." As her lips met the sweet liquid, the Doctor and Clara came rushing in and watched her down it. They shouted for her to stop, but she didn't listen.

"Geronimo." She whispered before all around her added and she was met by darkness.

* * *

"Hello?" she called. All there was, was nothing. As far as she could see there was a grey hazy mass of nothing.

"John!" she called out, again, some part of her hoping that she would meet him again. She wasn't greeted by any other sound so she sat down and cried. She didn't know where she was. She did know who she was and she was scared.

"I don't know where I am." She muttered through muffled sobs, "I just want John. John, it's Clara, please, please _help me."_

She sat there crying for an unknown amount of time. It could have been three years, three days, three weeks, three hours, three minutes, but it was painful and sad. Her heart ached for him.

"Clara?" called a voice, "Clara, is that you?"

"She opened her eyes, and saw a light, it was bright and binding, but she knew, something told her that it was John.

"John!" she shouted, "John!"

"Clara!" the light moved towards her, enveloping her, blinding her. She had to close her eyes. When she opened them, she was somewhere else. It was a TARDIS blue colonial, with a red door. It was so unbelievably John that she laughed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

"I came here for you, silly!"

"Clara, I _died." _

"How do you think I got here, John? I died too." She said, stating the obvious.

"That wasn't supposed to happen. _None of this was supposed to happen_!" he shouted, "We could have grown old together, Clara. You could have grown old without me. You could have found a man and loved him as much as you loved me and you could have been happy."

"But I couldn't have been, John. I couldn't live without you. I love you so much. I love you so much more than you will ever know and I'm so sorry for what I did to you." She admitted. He looked at her and sighed.

"You shouldn't have ended your life because of me."

"I was going to destroy the world if I didn't die, John. It was me or them, and I chose to save them."

"You are so brave, Clara." He said and hugged her. She hugged him back and he kissed the top of her head.

"We may be dead, but you're still my impossible girl and there will be nothing that comes between me and loving you." He said. She didn't say anything back, because he knew. She supposed he always had.

* * *

**Okay guys, this is it. it's the laast Chapter.**

**it has been a good run. and I had a lot of fun writing this. I really appreciate all the reviews and follows and favorites. (especially thepurplefrockcoat, who really helped me write a lot of this.) **

**Its still not to review and/or favorite, by the way ;)**

**This chapter was really hard for me to write. I know you probably all hate me because I killed both them off, but they got their happy(ish) ending and I think that this story was never going to end happily ever after. **

**it actually ended up turning out like that story thing that I had John tell Clara in the beginning, and I didn't even plan that. It was never going to end happily (I've said that like 8 times but oh well) It seemed to have turned out to be one of those Romeo and Juliet type things, everything happened do fast between Clara and John (like the TV series) and it just came crashing down on them in the end. (like Romeo and Juliet.) **

**So maybe its a modern Romeo and Juliet. I don't know. But it was fun to write, and it was really nice to get all this positive feedback from you, y reader. I love you guys so much. So thank you thank you thank you. I couldn't have done this with out you. **

**Please review and favorite. I'll love you forever! :3**

**Xoxo,**

**bleuboxes **

**P.S. Please please please go check out my other Whouffle stories and one shots! (feel free to review and favorite and follow those too.)**

**AN 2: YAY I FINISHED IT! okay, there are definitely some mistakes, I'm human and it happens, so if you notice any please kindly let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can. **


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